It’s a long way from the telling,
the whisperings diffused on the breezes;
Reverence paid to ghosts;
a tabla-rasa written as the parent pleases.
Early chapters of setting scenes,
a paragraph guide to maintain flow.
So repeated as new calendars came,
a belief from which love cannot grow.
The current arc pleads for understanding,
yet fails to question its own morality.
The here and now, where others live,
holding on to their own stories of humanity.
Whatever it is, it’s just a story.
1994ever 