Author’s Note
Sometimes, the mind wanders somewhere between waking and dreaming, and the unfamiliar begins to feel strangely like home. Maybe it’s just a dream. Maybe it’s imagination playing with possibilities. Or maybe it’s a reminder that the life we’re living right now isn’t the only story we could ever tell.
The Chapter After This One is about looking beyond a present that might not feel right and remembering that the story isn’t finished. We don’t always get to choose the circumstances of our current chapter, and we can’t simply flip to the ending to see whether everything works out. Sometimes, we have to keep reading, even when the road ahead is uncertain.
But reading isn’t all we can do. We can question the direction, challenge the expectations, and pick up the pen ourselves. We may not control every twist in the plot, but we can make choices that shape what comes next.
The future isn’t a page we’ve already read. It’s a chapter we haven’t reached yet—and perhaps, in more ways than we realize, we’re already helping to write it.
— Rowan Evans
The Chapter After This One
Poetry by Rowan Evans
I’ve been drifting today—
constantly somewhere in-between
awake and asleep—
between reality and a dream.
One moment, I’m sitting alone—
the next I’m walking streets I’ve never known.
Yet somehow,
those streets feel like home.
I can’t say for certain where I was,
but I had a pretty good idea—
it felt familiar but not,
like I was getting a preview—
for a future plot.
Like the writers for my life—
were showing me,
I’m not stuck in the story I got.
And while it’s true,
I may not like the current chapter—
I just have to keep reading,
to find out what comes after—
you cannot skip ahead,
that’ll only lead you down
the wrong road instead.
If you don’t like the direction,
pick up a pen—become a co-writer then.
You can’t rely on, just anyone,
take matters into your own hands.
You can shape fate, you can write
for your own life—
you know you can guide
the plot, right?
Journey into the Hexverse
[Everything and Nothing]
What happens when you’re quiet but observant, overwhelmed yet seemingly empty, surrounded by beauty but sometimes seeing only decay? Everything and Nothing is a confessional poem about overthinking, mental exhaustion, contradiction, and the absurd humor that helps us keep going—even when we’re wobbling in socks and Crocs.
If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]
