Unshaved, unkempt,
black nails, black teeth
and an old, tattered coat.
You’d dismiss him as derelict
and walk straight past.
Yet when he spoke
eagles soared,
mountains talked
and I glimpsed infinity.
“I’m a storyteller”
he said.
His stories wove spells
of dreaming and meaning.
The universe expanded,
and I felt for a moment
that I touched its limits.
Derelict,
Storyteller,
Spellbinder …
The essence of truth
lies perhaps in all three.
The Storyteller
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Lovely poetry; Looks like I just found one more area we have in common (I occassionally write poetry, and sometimes publish it in my blog).
I particularly liked the part where you said
“His stories wove spells
of dreaming and meaning.”
It reminded me of Dan Millman; His simple yet powerful story “Way of the peaceful warrior” is so full of mening, I have read it three times, and every time I find more meaning on it. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it!
-The crazy Colombian
Thank you. :) And I was inspired to re-visit your blog – I particularly liked your poem “Tomorrow”! A celebration of what really matters in life. I’ll look forward to when your blog ‘hiatus’ is over and you’re back to writing again. :)