The Power of Story

"its a think piece about a mid level band struggling with their own limitations in the harsh face of stardom." AF

I was composed as a medley of an authors imagination; and brought to life by the creation of a story told of the logos and the pathos.  Designing themselves alongside a path; a path apparent to any corporeal one that exists inside your reality…if only by a mutual decision to acknowledge that like reality.  Though it is unlike any path in particular you have seen only in that if you traverse it, obstinate, and assured, it would lead you in the general direction of your waking unconscious. This path was incipient creating itself cognitively from the mind of a wayfarer, as it designs, and redesigns itself for you, the wanderer, to see fit.  I am the literary creation of those otherwise unrealized dreams, and a device of the unintentional life of an idea, the idea of a story, a story created behind the ethos of an author. No name was given to me. There just wasn’t enough time, I was a momentary thought printed, then erased, then printed again on paper. He, the author, had no idea the consequences of the power of such words written together in that perfect series.

 

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It started snowing early this morning, most were still in their beds warm and dreaming, they were lost in worlds unfamiliar but always so comfortable to them.  I was walking blind, in the dark, a trail that I happened upon.  Each step led me further inside myself, further than I thought I was capable, and though I was frightened to confront myself I felt it was something I could no longer avoid.  As often as I tried, looking back, to stop and retreat from this I knew that right here and right now it was no longer possible.  There was also a burning curiosity that I could not place that drove me forward, just short of running.  It was still snowing, or had just started, again, and I continued on, now upwards, and towards, a rising sun.  I wasn’t sure if I should be looking for something and how I would know it once I saw it.  I never did realize that there was not a time, while walking, that I felt lost, or disoriented in anyway.  I never did realize that I was actually designing the path as I saw fit; I would continue strait as it seemed appropriate to continue straight, and I would veer any which way when I felt it seemed appropriate to turn.  I was too focused on the corridors of my mind leading me, internally, in directions too foreign for me to realize the affect my internal odyssey was having on the external.