The Omnipotence of A Writer

I am a god, standing above you all with the pen as my weapon. With each stroke of the pen, worlds are born and heroes are forged. Empires are made and oppressors are defeated. I am a writer- a human god.

I am omnipotent- I can create in the image of human dignity. I can bend time and space, transcending beyond what is possible. I know the thoughts of all that had existed and who will exist, for I made them. I weave their fate. I can brew glory, conjure wars, bring love, and call death with each scribble on aged parchment.

My voice carries on for centuries. Words cannot be buried by history, for I control history. The stroke of the pen can erase legacies and existence itself. No one will know of the war if I choose not to write it, but they may know of the hidden gold in an eastern archipelago for I let them know of it. I am fate.

For each tale that I weave, a heart is comforted. Laughter ensues from a teenaged girl holed up in her bedroom as I breathe life into a circus-like group of friends. Tears roll down an elderly man’s eyes as I craft the story of the death of a knight with so much life. The heart pumps rage in the bloodstream of the injured as their eyes wake up to the truth of the world they are in. The people are my subjects- they worship my power of creation.

Kings and politicians quiver at my feet in fear of my power, waiting for the day my words breathe life into the simmering rage of their people. They ready their guns and assassins as the next world is born of me, open for all to explore and learn. I am omnipotent, I think as they tie my hands and feet and gag me voiceless. Then they cut off my head, but I still live for I am omnipotent.

My words and worlds cannot be stopped by time and space. They carry into the next day, and the next, and the next like the eternal winds that blow on the surface of the Earth. They will never stop moving. They will travel to faraway lands, break language barriers and take in new explorers. My body reeks of red, and red is the color as the people march to the streets. They demand for justice. For truth. For their dignity. I am their Messiah- my words can save.

I am omnipotent. I sit on my bed with my laptop at two in the morning, my eyes sallow as I my fingers dance on the keyboard. What comes out of it is a legacy- a voice that can never be erased, worlds that can never be destroyed, a history that will never be altered. I type the last word and hit the publish button, breathing life into another world. A world that will open the eyes to revolt.

I am omnipotent. I am a writer.