We Are Story


What is “me?” A name, a face, something stored in memory? A distinct mark in a moment of history. What is this me, and why do I care to ask?

The anchor of conscious thought tortured by time. If we count as a collection the better question is, “what are me?” For what I am today is different.

The container and content are all that combines. A narrative of instances woven together by myth. I am story, a conglomeration of things. Bits of history curated, crafted and carved until I take on some semblance of representation and meaning.

Sharp moments etched on the canvas of persona conduct a pointillism that speak of Providence. Watercolor of divine chronology expressed in song and the source material of a desperate phonology.

The stick framed paradigm seems almost cobbled together with scraps until it’s clothed by artisans of meaning and adorned with truths. We were born to wear these tales. Our lives were meant to read like novels or else we become like animals and are forgotten.

What is me, what are we? We are what we wear more than we know. Creatures of connection and verse. Alone we are story, together we are song. Let it be written, read and rehearsed, for in this grand theater, We are!