for Richard, the boy who narrated life
Today, leaves are falling.
“One day Aaron will watch the falling leaves.”
The first day of school arrives.
“One day Champ’s mom will take him to school.”
Life is the story of life, says the narrator.
Life expands. The story lengthens.
The intertwined threads begin to pull apart.
Life is surface and sheen,
laughter, tears, opaque signs.
The story strains after fictive frames,
the hero’s epiphany, the villain’s inner pain,
and undreamt creatures beyond human sense.
And so myth and magic
give form to stories
that we no longer star in.
New worlds take shape
where the story creates its own life,
an escape from "the shock of recognition."
In time the threads converge again.
Life’s pattern breaks and needs a new plot.
The stories yield their human meaning—
maybe we were in them all along.
The story ends and life goes on.
Life ends and the story goes on.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 6:21 PM UTC
for Richard, the boy who narrated life
Today, leaves are falling.
“One day Aaron will watch the falling leaves.”
The first day of school arrives.
“One day Champ’s mom will take him to school.”
Life is the story of life, says the narrator.
Life expands. The story lengthens.
The intertwined threads begin to pull apart.
Life is surface and sheen,
laughter, tears, opaque signs.
The story strains after fictive frames,
the hero’s epiphany, the villain’s inner pain,
and undreamt creatures beyond human sense.
And so myth and magic
give form to stories
that we no longer star in.
New worlds take shape
where the story creates its own life,
an escape from "the shock of recognition."
In time the threads converge again.
Life’s pattern breaks and needs a new plot.
The stories yield their human meaning—
maybe we were in them all along.
The story ends and life goes on.
Life ends and the story goes on.
"The shock of recognition" is a phrase that I have lifted from an essay by Herman Melville.
