You have stayed too long in the realm of silence, old stories locked away in a box and new ones locked in your head, your heart, your whole body. You have stayed too long and the new stories cease to pile up & gather dust—they cease breathing.
"You have stayed too long," she warned me, the sun behind her illuminating her golden hair and blinding me as I sought to read her expression. It was time to go, time to leave, but I had become comfortable there in the silence, savoring the safety.
The journey begins with a new blank book and a pen. Each word is a step forward in a new direction, a pilgrimage to the center of my own soul, a journey I wasn't prepared to make alone. Each word a stepping stone, a glimmering path through an unknown and terrifying land but leading to that magical realm—like Oz—like Paradise—like all the magical realms the heroes of the great stories have sought to enter.
"You have stayed too long" and she handed me the book and the pen and I had no other choice but to take them and begin the journey.
