Ode on Stories
I pity the souls who fail to see
The wonder and beauty a story can be
Whether it be the delicate blots of black on crisp page
Or the utterings of grand tales around stone set ablaze
By the soft, dark-piercing glow of a moving picture-box
Or even with ear pressed against wood that is locked
A Whisper, A Rumor, An Account, A Tale
No matter my struggle, I always seem to fail
I am drawn to the emotions spilling forth like a summer’s storm
I will tell you exactly why these stories I adore:
The thick dreamy clouds of Imagination curling forth
Embracing you gently and floating away from the Earth
In the forget-me-not blue, there is no path to choose
You are along for the ride, relaxing in the white
New people to spend time with when others irk
New lives to live when others hurt
New love to experience when it seems none exists
New paths to tread when others are crowded and stressed
What a perfect paradise of scripture and thought
But of course,
One must not stay too long in this hoodwink of a haven
For even paradise has a sly, slinking snake
For these people are fake, or gone, or reside on Earth
Drift back down little cloud
Walk among the concrete
For though you deny it, life can be fleet
Invest time with loved ones
Enjoy each emotion while you can
Trapped in your own mind like a speeding jalopy
Never will it get you far