I’ll Write Me Well

A Tale To Tell (Written January 25, 2017)

I ache, and yearn sometimes, as well,
To have a tale of my own to tell.
When my life will end, when my book will close,
What will the moral be? Do you suppose.

I hope it’s to live courageously,
Even when nobody else will see.
Or else, that passion’s flame should make the heart alight
So as to shine brightly even through the dark of night.

Whatever it is, I want it to be good and strong,
I want it to really drag it’s readers along.
I want them to see me as a foe and as a friend,
I want them to eagerly and fearfully anticipate the end.

And after it’s over and I am dead
When the time has come that my tale is read,
I beg you, listen closely, yes, please, listen well,
To this yet untold glorious tale that I shall tell.


Isn’t that sort of what we all want, in the end? To say we lived a life worth remembering? That’s part of it, anyway. Me? I think all of life, all of the world, all of time…It’s all one big story. It’s the greatest story ever told. And I’m a character in that story. What is my role? What will be my moment, when I change the way the story goes? Will it be as a random passing stranger saying the words someone important needed to hear, at exactly the right moment? Or will it be more active? I don’t know.

In the end, though, I am writing myself into this story we call reality, and I can be as much or as little as my character can achieve. And if I am to write myself into this tale I want it to be good. I want to be worth reading.


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