Weather Forecast

I’ve built the world

pages ago.

I wrote the dark and dreary forests

and foraged the happy and hopeful meadows.

I created the trees and carved my name in their trunks.

I scrawled the birds and now I watch them fly.

I’ve built the world,

but that was pages ago.

But now,

Now

I make the world dance!

I get to decide whether it will rain on the forest and meadow,

whether my characters will cry and fight

or

will it be a sunny bright day without a cloud in sight

where my characters will laugh and smile.

That’s the magic,

I decide.

I create

and now I get to control the weather forecast.

My characters are written in pages

and live in my heart.

They are so close to me,

I know them so well.

I devise people who I love

but someone who I would be scared to meet also.

I know their fears and loves

their mother’s first name and their children’s best friend.

I fabricated this world,

all the plants, animals, and stone walls.

But then I start to wonder,

if I feel this way about a world only typed,

not alive.

How does God feel about us?

Pixabay/user:geralt