Infinite Possibilities

7/23/2025

By Ellie HoovsPublished about a year ago • 1 min read

She strummed the edges

of bound golden leaves.

They whispered promised secrets,

shuffling beneath her thumbs;

blank pages,

ghosts of tree ringed memory,

Yearning for new life.

All the world lay open before her.

Pen unsheathed,

ink steeped in dream-spell,

she begins to invoke,

summoning, invoking,

weaving the breath of possibilities,

polishing them

until ribbons of their iridescence

broke through the ivory quiet,

refracting - no,

reflecting her reclaimed fire.

She holds them tight to her chest,

and sings, "this, all of this,

is mine."

Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.

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