Even within the ways (such as words), there are sub-ways (subways!) -- such as:
Prose
Poems
Song
Myth
Legend
Fairtytale
For me, the world is full of stories waiting....
Some bold, loud, demanding
Some... HIDDEN
With words I compose a symphony, abandoning myself to the rhythm, cadence, tonality of vowels and syllables; like a pianist over a keyboard of ivory and ebony, I rock before mine of -- well, ivory and ebony, albeit not the same -- and string together sounds, vibrations -- syncopation, exclamation -- an orchestral composition of language that, perhaps, weaves an unexpected tale of...a life undone
Stories of lives in flux, at the end, the beginning, the unknown, always struggling -- yet, even Still, Life: a collection of echoes...
...those mournful sounds trailing off in the distance beg to have their memories held tight to the page. Moments, snippets, glimpses into those breaths that we often hold for fear that letting them go means losing ourselves and becoming --
Like Anabelle,
LOST...
I am a storyteller and explorer
I am a spelunker of souls full of madness and love, rage and loss...
I open myself to their cries, allow them to use me -- a conduit -- to transfer their struggles, their triumphs, their despair and their magic from the dark depths of silence and out into the world.
our world
I play their songs, give their voice air to be heard, so that they may then fall silent not with fear of oblivion, but with peace....
...of their story told.