Myth

Myth shrouds herself in mist.

Myth, whose true meaning almost always

eludes me,

nonetheless beckons from every turn

in the path.

Myth urges me,

Come hear this new story, this old story.

You'll like it.

And this time, I promise,

you'll get the true meaning.

I'll mist it a little, since that's the point of myth,

But only enough to add a bit of mystery.

In this case, finally,

you won't miss the meaning of the myth

because of mist.

 

And thus the Lucy of storytelling

once again suckers me,

the Charlie Brown of readers.

Never mind.

Let Myth continue to shroud meaning

in mysterious mist.

And I'll continue,

as long as I have breath and functioning eyes,

to undertake the job of decoding

--against my very nature—

story after story after story.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Ann Tudor
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