A steady rhythm clicked in the semi- lit room. Music played in the background, but the ticking wasn’t from a metronome. It was from a keyboard.

Armies have conquered and fallen in the end
Kingdoms have risen, then buried by sand
The Earth is our mother, she gives and she takes
She puts us to sleep, in her light we’ll awake
We’ll all be forgotten, there’s no endless fame
But everything we do, it’s never in vain

We sat for hours creating worlds that thrived in our imaginations. Wishing we had magic in our fingertips; that we could take our position beside our heroes and heroines.

We’re part of a story, part of a tale
We’re all on this journey, no one’s to stay
Wherever it’s going, what is the way?

We raged through out of time typing when learning the fate of our beloved. We’re the writers. We say where our story ends.

Forests and deserts, rivers, blue seas
Mountains and valleys, nothing here stays
While we think we witness, we’re part of the scene.
This never ending story, where will it lead to?