I am the Architect,
Of many stories yet unwritten.

I put the words upon the pages,
Each new line,
A star in the sky,
Each page a constellation.

So they beckon to me,
To create a shelf,
Filled with tomes,
Of stories yet unread.

Showing me how to write,
As my pen moves aimlessly.
Showing me how to live,
As I exist purposelessly.

Slowly, the window opens,
With every word I write.
Showing me a sky,
A sky of endless possibility.

So I am the Architect,
To bring these stories to you.