I’ve built the world
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.
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
will it be a sunny bright day without a cloud in sight
where my characters will laugh and smile.
That’s the magic,
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,
How does God feel about us?