The story that is us.

The story that is us, is the story

of delicate tendrils stretching through red soil.

The gods foretold its future,

‘cursed is the seed left un-watered 

beneath the haze of golden rays.

For though it carries the future,

it shall wither like

the cracks on the heels of a sojourner in the desert.

The story that is us, is a story

of angry tears beating down viciously on a smile.

The gods declare 

it is a rainbow 

hope in the midst

of opposing yet interlinked natural events.

Tomorrow shall yet come,

as surely as the tortoise has a home in its shell.

The story that is us, is a story

of shoots reaching out to golden rays

beckoning for a hug.

Chanting  ‘I know not when nor how

but one day I shall spread my branches high to the heavens

and my roots down to squash hades.

The gods are bemused,

for the story that is us

is not theirs to write but for the future to unravel.

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