Infinite Possibilities

She strummed the edges

of bound golden leaves.

They whispered promised secrets,

shuffling beneath her thumbs;

blank pages,

ghosts of tree ringed memory,

Yearning for new life.

All the world lay open before her.

Pen unsheathed,

ink steeped in dream-spell,

she begins to invoke,

summoning, invoking,

weaving the breath of possibilities,

polishing them

until ribbons of their iridescence

broke through the ivory quiet,

refracting - no,

reflecting her reclaimed fire.

She holds them tight to her chest,

and sings, "this, all of this,

is mine."