Day 37: Story book

Life tells many stories. It tells stories of joy, of love, of despair, of jubilation, of hurt, of pain, of suffering, of neglect, of abuse, of peace, of births and rebirths and death and even the abysmal depth of nothingness and nowhere-ness. It tells many tales, some real, others but works of fiction. It spins many yarns; some are fairy tales of mother goose proportions and others are testimonies from a lifetime of wisdom, experience and travels. Then there are those that begin as small whispers that pass on through the night, of strange hissings and expositions that begin as a fraudulant seed that soon blossoms into the wide wild vine of hear-say, of heresey.

Life tells many stories. It speaks of who we are, what we become. That when the final chapter is read, the final words are written, the final verdict is issued... it would be but that, no matter how hard we try, how well we tell the tale, how expertly crafted each sentence and how intricate the story board may be.

It will just be that. A story.