The Story, This.
A free verse poem, Tony Malzone
Impossible, only to find it's already happened. Confined to myth, this. Big things are near, beyond what we revere. Mountains of fear, what wasn't always here. A fictional prophecy, an autobiography of a wannabe. But under this, we insist, what couldn't be seen, this. In the midst we resist. Resist the urge to press on, into this. The great unknown to dethrone, everything we know as our own. It's scary being trapped in the alone. Worried about the tone of what you'll think when you're grown. But you're not alone. This place we all call home, we were always meant to roam. Go out and see, they say all roads lead back to Rome. Explore what you never missed, or did you? I don't know, ignorance is bliss. Just think of this. There is always more to the story, I insist.