post

The Storyteller

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.

Comments

  1. 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

  2. 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. :)

Talk to me ...

*