There once was a wall and a hardened briefcase full of secrets

The maiden thought to scale the wall and toss the secrets down below

Then jump

Out of the worlds into the one

No knight, no joker, nor all the rest

Could crack open this secret chest

And a great fall would scatter the dusty words 

across the town of Santa Fe

It was the letter, it was the history that would be lost to the wind. The maiden would break her fall, but why then climb over? if to have nothing on the other side?

Albeit high, the wall was thin enough to listen to-

Feel a voice through

War had broken out on the home front

And the cavalries were storming the horizon

Skillfully and slowly, the maiden climbed the smooth wall

There was nowhere to go but down

Sitting on the edge she heard no voice to guide her, saw no person waiting to catch her.

She fell and didn’t sprout wings

But everything was exactly as before; this time she was just alone. There was no pain or blinding light. A desert of air. 

The maiden pressed her ear against the wall and heard it speaking

It told her all her stories back to her. All without trepidation. All for what there were. Stories.

Peace came over her but there was -no-body-no-thing- to make peace with.

She scaled the wall returning to the red and smoky skies.

Chaos ran amuck but not within her.

Down below this time stood a hazy figure.

Upon climbing down she knew it was a young man.

He said, “ I never knew anyone could come back from the wall”

“Then why did you wait?” the maiden asked

“I wasn’t waiting, I was reading to the dead- this box of writing lay here, so I spoke it, it was all I could find to read.”

“Those are my secrets” she replied

“Do you want them back?” asked the young man

“No”

The maiden smiled and took his hand leading him to the city square

It was difficult to be heard over the waves of crying children and grieving mothers

But it didn’t matter. She stood and read her secrets to the worlds as loud as you would read a bedtime story.

A few listened and gathered

Others chastised her for having words

Money was dead and thoughts had skyrocketed in exchange value but this city was poor as could be

When she had nothing left to write she had nothing else to say

Gathering the notes by her feet she lit a fire

The crowd wailed and some cheered

She looked down and saw her feet and ankles withering like paper but it didn’t hurt. She smiled sorrowfully at the crowd and said

I have a thought. An idea. A hope. A dream. 

And she was gone.

No secrets no words

Just air.