Oh what these pages hold

Do these pages understand the importance they hold?

The information collected, mashed together to form masses of words, constructed in columns or indented paragraphs?

Do these pages realize they hold years of knowledge and wisdom, mistakes and successes experienced by society after society?

What if they did know? ...could comprehend the extremity of what is inked onto them?

What if these pages knew all along that their destiny would unfold on this day, during this hour, when their tattooed flesh would be revealed and deciphered and picked apart and critiqued?

Would these pages be proud of their existence?

Would they have felt fulfilled?

How long had they waited for this glorious day, when they could be free of their bindings and being clumped together with others like them?

How often had they cried out, “Let me go! Let me show those young minds what I possess!”?

I cannot determine the pain that would be felt, knowing there was so much to give but feeling trapped and suffocated, contained and confined.

Don’t you dare step out of line!

Don’t even think about sticking your corner or edge up so that you stand out!

You are part of the group, you stick with the group.

Don’t be different!

Don’t be unique!

There’s nothing special about you...

Oh, how wrong you are...

Greatness is held within my pages.

Freedom is held within my pages.

Courage is held within my pages.

Don’t you dare tell me I’m not free.

I embody freedom in many forms.

Don’t you see it?

Can’t you comprehend it?

I hold future choices.

I hold proclamations and declarations!

I hold discoveries.

It is all within me and upon me...

And don’t you forget it.

 Anonymous