We Tell Stories

we tell stories
everyday
about how things are
about how things were
we like to play god
we tell about
how Jimmy cracked corn,
how the knight broke into the castle
and wore the Emperor's best clothes
way back when
it was before your time
and mine
Yet how do I know for sure
unless someone else told me?
how we feel about the stories
is a story in itself
it starts with a lie
and just keeps going
but everyone tries to see the truth in it
for the entertainment
or because they're scared of what other stories
would be true
if they weren't
some don't even notice that they're trying
they are so entertained
it's funny isn't it?
what if it could have been?
what you call a coincidence
I call poetic license
it is or it isn't
you tell me
the universe is a song
our lives are a story
the stories survive
and here I am
to tell the tale
about what my life is
the baby Jesus
the immaculate virgin
the angels that look down
it's all just a story
but could we make fools of them
unless they were really listening
unless they gave voice and animation to the grand comedy?
we have to imagine
they are practically crying for our theatrics!
if not, who are we talking to?
no one knows.
But we tell ourselves the stories
to pass the time
say our lines
and just maybe experience that faux moment
when it seems that all the stories have come true.

Poetry