Hidden in the corners of a moonless night submerged in absolute darkness
In the millions of glittering diamonds from a fresh field of snow
In the shallow depths of an old story
In the glowing box in your hand
In the hidden mysteries beneath our tides
In the intoxicating aroma of your favorite dish
In the colossal beauty of space
In the eye of the beholder
In the familiar smell of someone close
In the emptiness of a sorrowful soul
In the frivolous laughter of a baby
In the tempo of a good song
In the greedy flames of a bonfire
In the gray downcast of a stormy night
In the hot plasma of lightning, gone in a flash
In the booming symphony of a thunderclap
In the pain and sorrow from an embedded secret
In the ever changing moon
In the boundless imagination of a child
In the time worn face of an old man
In the working hands of a man of the world
In the respect of those we look up to
In the patience of a mother
In the elaborate mechanisms of a grandfather clock
In the ties of family
In the fur of a soft fuzzy creature
In the warmness of a blanket
In the deepest apology someone can give
In the regrets we gather in life
In the joy we surround ourselves with
In the stories we tell ourselves
In the paper in front of you
In the pen in your hand
Or on the edges of your vast consciousness waiting to be plucked and committed to paper
That’s where writing hides