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The Storyteller

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Some exist,
to reach great heights,
trampling on inferior ones,
blinded by ambition.
Some exist,
to bring a smile
on an unfortunate face,
generously feeding
love and care
to the souls cursed
with unwantedness.

And I?
I live
to tell their stories.
Stories of ambition,
war and bloodshed.
Melancholic stories
of love, lust and loss.
I have a story
for every predicament.
I have stories of hope
for the dejected,
of humility and futility
for the ambitious.
Stories of passion
for the loveless,
of death and destruction
for the proud and arrogant.

There is no condition
of body and mind
that the right story
cannot heal.

Don’t ask my name,
I’m just
another storyteller.
The predicaments
and the stories
that heal them
shall remain and be retold.
The healing itself
becoming another story.
While I, the storyteller
will meet an obscure end
with no story of my own…


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