Chronicle

It becomes like a shrine
this clever article
of faith
that tells a convincing story
washed in fiction
of what will become
of my willingness
to love

In each chapter, each word
lives ten thousand years of
faded believing
I lived it
I told it
I shared the gifts from this book

And they were left outside my temple
like unwanted children
The bitter cold of
rejection biting at their hearts
tears stain their cheeks
not marred by contempt
but only
indifference

It is an alter of burned faith
where these yellowed
paper leaves shuffle with their own life
their brittle truths still shine
and some have used that light
inhaled it
filled themselves up
became inspired, yet still
exhaled and walked away

The pages shift in the wind
fall open to the perfect place where
that epic ended in a sad whisper

But the next line is
“Once Upon a Time…”