My World

There's a place, hidden to all but one, its treasures unknown to the world. A land of journeys, yes, but also wonder and awe. I know this place, the wonder that all must only guess at. Luke is its name.

I know the Literature Mountains in the west, towering above in all their glory. The highest peak, pages of snow folding over it, stands austere over the great expanse. Words litter the side of each mountain, words that shine upon the forests beneath. I can see the authors climbing the side of their mountains to the very peak, and I always smile when I do. It's comforting, gazing overhead as another mountain rises from the ground. Without the mountains, the land would be a desert, dead and bleak with no end.

The happy feelings that a day brings shine down upon the world and warm everyone's hearts. At the moment, the sun is streaming down like an endless river. I watch Thoughts jump through the air, circling the landscape with loops and twirls. One flies from the mountains, taking flight from the climbers and the words. My heart warms at the sight of them. I could never bring myself to hate anything, not even the Badthoughts, in this land. There's nothing, nothing at all in Luke, that I don't love.

Now then, shall we move on to the forests? There is one forest in Luke, Writing Forest, one that encompasses all others. I walk through the gorgeous trees daily, smile upon them. Each time I do, leaves fall from them, surrounding me in a lovely dance. I dance with the leaves like they are my best friends because they might as well be. I leave them with a parting gift, a new leaf for them to transform into a story.

Magically, snow starts to fall to the ground. The Thoughts scatter at the sight of it, hiding in the clouds which began to gather. They're Imagistratus today. I never would've expected it to snow in such warm weather, but I always welcome the cold. After all, there's no better feeling than that of snow. I rush quickly to the Existentialist, a yacht in the Philosophy Ocean. There's very little barring me from the real world, nothing that I can't surpass. With the Existentialist, grand in its red and white is where I stand in the middle. On its grand deck, I stand torn between Luke and Reality. Then again, Luke is more real to me than any facsimile of the "real world".

I stand watching as the water freezes over. It's lovely here. I don't want to go back, the land pulling my soul back, but I know I have to leave. There's always something I need to do in the "real world", always something that I need to get back to. Here, I'm free.

As the Existentialist sails through the emerald waters, I feel a dark cloud shadow the sea. It covers the brig in darkness, and I rush to see what could be causing the shadow. That's when I see it. The gigantic blimp sails through the ocean of the sky, paving the way through the clouds. Thoughts are scattering everywhere, the blimp consuming all the space left in the sky. It's the Blimp of Thoughts, a caretaker for all Thoughts making their way to Luke. It's a lovely sight, all of my ideas and abstractions breaking free. It feels freeing in my heart, too, as if I can soar above the sky.

The blimp is gold, shimmering and reflecting all across the snowy sky. I can see it turning inward and curving towards the clocktower. Oh, I didn't tell you about the clocktower! How silly of me.

Though I can't see it from here, there's a tall tower in the center of Luke. It has a clock embedded in the center of it, the entirety of the structure laced with emerald. I love looking at it, the heart and soul of the entire world. The clock doesn't show the twelve hours of a "reality" clock, but it shows something much more important. The timeline of my life. Without this clock functioning, without the dreams dreaming, without the Thoughts thinking, without the mountains rising, I am nothing more than a useless human.

The clock is my guiding star, the collection of all my joy and creativity and wonder and awe. When I let it fill me up, chime to the tune of my heartbeat, I know that I will never be a useless human. I will never be part of the crowd. I know not that I am special, but that I am unique. That clocktower is a beacon of hope, a light that I take to me back into my real world and that I am delighted to let fill me up.

Life in Luke is not like living anywhere else. When I first came here, first found it, I felt more scared than I'd ever felt in my entire life. Everything seemed to rise around me, leaving me behind. I ran for my life, trying to escape my own home. When the Blimp came in with its deposit of Thoughts, though, I knew that I belonged here. After all, where else would I want to be? There are so many possibilities in Luke, so many places to go and things to see. Not even I have seen them all. I'd wager there's a dark place somewhere, deep in the ground, hidden from all light and joy, filled with my darkest feelings and fears. Still, until the day comes where I find out everything about Luke, I am content here and now, nowhere else and no time else.

I do regret not being able to show it to you. I'd bet you'd all love to see it, the glorious rolling hills and forests, flying Thoughts, and the wondrous clocktower. I wish I could show it to you, I do. Still, I bet yours is just as magical. I wonder what your yacht looks like.