The birth of the reader happens with the death of the author

Although we know nothing is in our hands,

Still, we plan

When we write evil, we think evil

We repress our good side

Although we might not be more like the evil

And more so because of the amount of goodness

Lying inside us

But we know evil

And project it

In ways that fascinate us

We switch sides

We bring characters to life

Whether we believe it

We have our favourites

We have our own choices

We have our best of the best

That sometimes makes us 

The author's creations are all like the author,

Even if the author might or might not resemble them

The author is inside all the characters 

Created as part of the creator's imaginations

Or shall we rather say the characters are all inside the author

Or shall we know it in both ways to be true

Like an antithesis

Whatever life throws at you, accept it 

As your fate, you have no other alternative

None is free from duality, not even the creator;

Let the creator switch sides

When the time is ripe, the axe will be on the other side of life;

Trust me, seasons change

The Freytag's pyramid is not a lie

If switching sides is the habit of the creator

It will not be even for a day, aside

But for the eternity to come

Whether the creator gets affected

Unquestionably the author will have the bucket list 

Containing favourites to meet in due time

Whatever is within the author

Reflects itself on the pages of the author universe

There is nothing as such

That is there but is not a part of the author

In the authoriverse

The characters might incline the author to do anything 

Not like the natural inclination

Of remaining neutral 

That defines the author

And helps the author

To give birth to a loyal reader

Here, we cannot find out,

Whether the author is one like us

The creator is in its creations

Still, the creator remains aloof from them, unaffected 

In dilemma or happiness of this universe