I saw a city and watched her come to life in bursts of kaleidoscopic colour. She greeted me with hopeful eyes and a charming smile. Yes! Sunday school kids that were hungrily licking their sugar coated ice-creams, I thought. Little boys and girls that shot for the stars because they didn’t care about the limits of this world just yet. Today I saw a city and it became my world.

Ancient stories are filled with enchanters who are weavers and seamstresses. Rumpelstiltskin and Maleficent understood that thread and silk have the power to shape worlds and lives. They understood that life was not about the fabric that you weaved, but the dreams that you created. It was not about the change that occurred when straw was spun into gold, but the metamorphosis of the human spirit – this is much like my world. A world where I get to keep moving forward and still get to feel my past growing along with me. As desperately as I am trying to portray my world to you, this world cannot be compressed into mere words, because it is multi-coloured, ever-changing; an intricate infusion of emotion.

My world is about fearlessness where identity and pride in one’s individuality is greater than any struggle, fear, or darkness. It’s a world where I have the opportunity to search for me, her strengths, her scars and her soul. It‘s a place of tremendous beauty, the kind that makes me shudder, smile and weep because there is no correct way to describe what each lovely day has bestowed upon me.

My world is a land of deep affection for my family. My mother, much like my ancestors, has sacrificed so much so that I, her mark on this earth, could remain untainted and pure. She loves me unconditionally, is never afraid to let me grow. She has imprinted a message of courage, respect, and strength that shall never leave my soul.

When I lay and think about the kingdom that is My World, I know that it is bursting at the seams with fearless trust in one’s heritage, and that even when I perish, it will still dance with feeling, purpose and vitality. Even when I am evaporated from where I stand, these words will be engraved on at least one reader’s mind and one being’s soul.

My world is not only my world, but our world; his, hers and yours. The lines of my world are not defined. I’m creating this world that cannot merely fit into four simple pages. My world is experienced in a life is minuscule yet so colossal. My world is the only place where I, a creation, have the power to become a creator. I pray that beneath the ground we pace on, there shall lie thousands of distinct, original and unpolluted engravings. There are thousands of hopes, identities and purposes, each separate, yet undeniably beautiful-synthesizing into a world that is not only mine or yours, but everyone’s.

Tell us: What are your thoughts about the writer’s ‘world’?