My magic camel and I nestled down to rest.
Travelling far and wide, we had seen and heard much.
Abundance and emptiness of spirit.
Poverty and great riches of the heart.
Stories fashioned from imagined lives.
Lives lived from imagined deeds.
All within the covers of books
pages inked with tears of joy
sweat of hardworking brows
blood of family and ancestors.
Magical journeys of communication and story
how life might be lived
what parts of living that may need avoiding
that each life has a story of it’s own.
My magic camel carried me safely
back to where I sit curled in my chair
in the comfort, abundance and safety of my own home’s richness.
“There’s always room for a story that
can transport people to another place.”
~ J.K.Rowling
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