In the beginning — a story was born,
and the child — became — another mouth to feed.
His lot — his place — in life — was set,
whether he consciously made the choice — or not.
As he grew — his physical weight — forever fluctuating,
was the Earth’s burden to bear — the burden,
a gravitational equation.
Born with a will — an innate trait — he survived many a power play,
manipulating others with clever maneuvers — win, lose or draw.
His works — not original — but hand-me-downs — reproduced
for the sake of posterity — giving him — a sense of self-worth.
Aware — was he — of a certain personal freedom ,
daring him to express it — in action — in thought — in private
conversations with himself — and his God.
He gave thought to his fortune — as it had been — as it was,
some earned — some luck — perfectly timed,
random and predictable.
As a man — he mused — over his material possessions,
The impermanence — of an heirloom — moved him to tears.
At once, he came to life — to love — to loss.
Women — and romance — had betrayed him.
He believed — in the integral attachments — compassion,
sympathetic consideration — and affectionate responses
towards those who were accepting — receptive — and warm-hearted.
Awake and alert — he attended to his soul — his mediator of purpose,
his philosopher of attitudes,
seeking every possible earthly accomplishment,
often in opposition to — his spirit — that unworldly intelligence
endowed from within — at ease in blissful restraint,
providing wisdom at its finest.
Thus said — he had himself a life.
His mortal commonalities had engaged him
to carry on — to wander through,
and to go beyond his individual fairy tale.
Experientially — he clung — to what he called his own.
With his defenses dropped — he owned up to the truth
past and present.
Never knowing how his story would end — he accepted the fact
that death — belonged — to those who had believed in it.
He struggled for longevity — suffering fools, fears and temptations,
calming himself with denial — vanquishing many a doubt — like magic.
There comes a time — this much he knew.
A time to forgive, and — a time to forget.
A thief would come one day — to steal his heart away,
to strip him of his name — his guilt — and his shame.
Purged — and cleansed — one hope would remain.
The immortal clean slate — the unborn giving birth
to every new beginning — to every questioning moment.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Lost in space.
“Once upon a time…”