Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.
Anna Quindlen, How Reading Changed My Life
There is a path that I walk
paved with intentions
never uttered or realized,
no substance to speak of,
where grief lies heavy
and fear lines the route.
There is a path that I walk
through worlds imagined,
more real to me now
than where I came from,
each step bringing distance
and freedom from pain.
There is a path that I walk
where time marches on,
drawing me fiercely
through magical scenes,
shielded from harm by
patterns of meaning.
There is a path that I walk,
lit brightly by words
that caress as they flow
around and within,
meaning to shelter me
as they transport me.
© Sara Murray, 3 November 2016
I like the way you have put a quotation at the start of your poem. When I read your poem, I then felt I was in fairy tales and magical forests. Very evocative.