The Book Whisperer


Come, let me pull you away from this

No-good reality, into my pages…

Where you have all the control and can make anything you want up.

It's as real as anything, and it never ages.


In fact, it's even more real

Because it makes you new and whole.

You can be anyone you want to be. You can be the greatest,

Can overcome any obstacle, outsmart any foe.


Everything is perfect and every word has a certain power.

It's perfect even in its imperfections,

Because everything is exactly how you say it is

And you can defeat anything you encounter.

Here, and only here, in these pages,

Your brokenness becomes your superpower.


Where everything painful and stigmatized against has a certain beauty

And a lure within its cracks.

It all has a purpose, and the challenges are exciting

Because you know you can always just close the bindings and relax.

The symbolism, the patterns, the existential crises –

Foreshadowing, long descriptions of clues and hints,

All for a reason, leading you on

Like a hunter after reindeer tracks.


Here, there's no such thing as pure chaos,

And you're ignorant if you think that way,

Since the creator always has a point, of course,

Never to just lead you astray.


You're a good reader if you can figure out what it is they meant.

Subjective nature, radical political expression, or both?

You delve into the mental blend of the author and yourself

So you tell me what all of it represents.

And the best part is, for the characters,

Things like depression and strong emotions

Never get in the way of intent.


If only that translated so well in the real world.

We build our homes, our cities, and dress ourselves with signal permits.

But in reality, it's all an illusion,

And in the dark, it all takes off its mask.


What is the meaning of life? What comes after this?

What is the point of this task?

At least, when we look to art, and in writing

We have some sort of control over that which we cannot ask.


Anything you can think of, and especially those you can't

It all comes to life and washes your senses. It colors your mind

With a hue completely undetected, invisible and yet substantial

Lights up your mind like a fire in an electrical plant.


And those shared creative visions, they stay with you

Those carefully selected hypnotic words, those fascinating characters.

Who even needs memories in real life

When you have books?


And nobody can take it away from you. No matter the hardships,

The shitty jobs, the crying babies. The abusive partner,

The crazy family, the bills piling up in the mail.

The crushing sense of loneliness and isolation,

Not even the suicidal thoughts that tell you over and over,

You were simply set up to fail.


Because inside, you are different.

Different than anything they try to tell you that you are in the real world.

Different than anything you can even manage to convince yourself about the worst parts about you.

Because, inside,

I am Katniss. I am Ender. I am … Harry Potter, Astrid Magnussen,

All survivors.


Here, you are understood.

Here, you and the heroes, we aren't so different,

Are we?


When something is a "whisperer,"

Did you know that does not make you the one that whispers,

But the one who hears them?