The epilogue of a story is a creation
Of tears and laughs
It creates a circle
Binding the cause to the result
With the meat as the journey
And the prologue as a start
A channel is erected
From letters and a spark
To the tenderness of moments
And the lighting in written terror
The masquerade in voices
The purity in the fair
The intertwining strands
Dyed in deepest red
Tie off at the finish
Far off after the story ends
There's a cliff-diving chance
That one will feel complete
After a winding plot
On which one's time does flee
You spend those hours reading
What one did write
To feed the hunger
For a good story tonight
So then,
You open
the cover
And turn
a page...
YOU ARE READING
In the Garden Primeval, where I'll pray for you.
PoetryI have a plan for you You'll deal with it all And with the weight of the world on your shoulders you'll face a fall People won't catch you Many times But I'll pray for you They'll come in time
