In Principio

I am a novel

When I read,

I connect back to something that

was always there,

almost as if that book and I are

one,

because we are.

And the more that I think,

the more that I realize that

I am a novel.

It All Starts

With the exposition,

the beginning of my plot line,

that special month-day-year.

slowly, the action rises, 

conflicts arising and further

convoluting my life,

all rushing forward to collide at the climaxes.

Like That Novel,

I, too, consist of pages,

flimsy, bendable, tearable

pages, 

pages that can sway in the wind yet

stand stiff and alone from the rest,

pages that speak of my emotions

and all of my feelings that

lie dormant deep down—

all of my good,

my bad,

and my uglies.

Open Or Closed,

Hardbound or paperback,

thick or thin,

my appearance may change,

but like they say,

don’t judge a book by its cover,

because who i am is entirely different from

how i look.

I Have Chapters,

Titled and numbered with 

events and memories in each,

bookmarking everything that has

happened to me

over the course of my

tiny,

insignificant

plot line.

Words Create Me;

Everything i do or say,

every choice i make,

every thought i think,

words build them;

like my little novel,

words compose my being, too.

Like All Stories,

There are characters.

except the ones in mine 

are pretty basic:

i am the protagonist,

life the antagonist,

and God the author.

It All Ends,

At the well anticipated climax,

tumbling down

to reveal 

the 

falling

action,

and it all concludes itself, too,

in the resolution,

where all the lessons get learned 

and all the memories get made.

I am a novel

because in the end,

I am nothing but this story,

nothing but—as was once said—

dust and shadows.