Beyond the Story

The alluring possibility
of a blank page.
I wonder if I,
with so many years
already written,
could be empty like that,
could turn the page
on a life half written,
or maybe almost complete,
and find a clear space
to step into.

It happens sometimes
when my daughter slips
her little hand into mine
and I notice
how it’s not tiny anymore,
or the dog tilts his head
and looks at me,
while I’m clapping away
at the computer,
with the longing
for a shared adventure
in his eyes,
or I exhale softly
with full surrender.

In these simple,
almost imperceptible moments
a new door opens,
beyond my plans,
challenging time.

Perhaps this kind
of unwritten travel
would be dangerous,
would derail the collective plot,
or maybe even shorten
the story itself.

Though risky,
the lure of its aliveness
is marvelously intoxicating.

Perhaps I could
step off the pages all together,
defying every last one
of the common myths
that come with living
inside the rules of a story.

What if the art of being
is something
so
much
more?