Saturday, December 12, 2015

STORY ENDED



Hay fever seizes the accountability of the narrative if the
commentator becomes susceptible to this malady.

Sometimes we live in fear of being forced to tell our stories
under conditions not best for remembering them.

It's a systemic emotion bred and  ritualized into us over the course
of many subsequent generations.

There arrives a point where the terror no longer registers
anymore and so here it comes triggered weakly within.

So that the detonation of silence opens a clustering sky
for a garden from which to hang tears individually.

I don't think it's possible for the story to have ended
really, not here today, nor there tomorrow.