There Are Stories Within Each Of Us

There are stories within each of us Full of glory, boredom, and rust Pages written with passion and trust Chapters ended by betrayals and lust Footnotes covered and hidden by dust Dust and despair The real story is there The outline may be misleading But the writing is worth the reading The real story is there It’s not going anywhere The written words mark every page With tales of choices poorly made Hoping to be quoted at every stage Aging writers wait to beg then fade Tossing their reviews off in a rage Reviews and cliches There is more to say Plots to keep us perplexed Critics baffled by themes and text There is more to say Before the mystery goes away How many ways can a story be told It doesn’t matter if it’s rare ink or gold Old school tablets or high tech apps No one reads if writers don’t gift wrap The fiction in our stories is never done Rewriting truth in ways it’s never been spun Reaching moments of faith in a world of one Sleeping in the light of a hung over sun With an unpublished memoir barely begun Barely done and through There was more to write and more to do Before our stories were places on a shelf Filed in the tiny spaces that are left Until a stranger looking for clues Opens to a page written about you Our best stories are shared with a scrawl Written carelessly on unpainted walls Revisions of convenient memories Edits added to our final treasuries Until our story is a Book Of The Dead Waiting for the ashes to be spread Ashes or broken flesh Stories of our every breath On the wind or in the dirt Each story carries its own hurt Pages unfold when tales begin Covers shut when chapters end Every story, every page Every word a lifetime stage The stories within each of us Full of glory, boredom, then dust