In those pages the words flew.
It went along with me on my escape to the brown river and accompanied me on the way back. There it stayed in the depth of my open heart where it found a new home.
It sharpened ideals and erased ordinary. It is good, but dangerous. Placed in the wrong hands, it could be poison. What was meant to set you free can make you choke. What was meant to comfort you can hurt.
Words have the power but only when it is triggered by belief. It could either make or break. It could encourage or disillusion.
As you grow older, doubting becomes a shield and belief becomes a vulnerability.
What choice do I have? I came to realize for awhile now that when you've chewed on the words for so long there is very little room for even a shadow of doubt.
There lies the danger.
I envy the young for they are fresh and spirited souls willing to believe and understand. They understand only the benefits, but never the perils.
For that, they hold the power- the kind which the lost and jaded soul should seek to attain again.