my first love
wasn’t the horror
which filled my
childhood home
(in the written form)
but the worlds of
dragons and magic

i didn’t feel
my writing was quite
up to snuff
to attempt my own
stab at high fantasy
but now the thought
has worked deeply
into my brain
and i am obsessed
with finally trying

now i have fallen
into world crafting
forging ancient tales
to inform the current
laying the bones deep
into the soil for
later tales to dig up

and it is glorious
and all consuming
so i am feeling a bit
out of wasteful words
and sinking into silence
while i attempt to spin
an epic tapestry
or fail miserably
and learn more lessons
on accepting limitations

which is absurd
there is nothing which
cannot be done through
sheer asinine perseverance