Newly spun, seasoned and scripted
Stories they are, now and then
Yesterdays, today and tomorrows
Implicating verses or narrated
As long-winded threads.
Sculpting fables from bloom to drown
All ears long for tales and spiels
The ones we put before others,
The ones we let in on ourselves,
The ones that every nook and corner sound,
All those entities we subtly sense,
Aren’t stories legitimately fascinating

Engrossing they are to drops and deepness
Diversifying our thoughts, our perspectives
And yet here we are, still persuaded
To clinch to the erroneous ones,
Formulating denial and weakness
Diffident and reluctant to self-belief.
Posing a potion of thought,
Ever recited a tale to self, worth believing in
A tale that will outreach and outlive,
All the rims we have confined ourselves to?

Maybe we should, let it echo within
For convincing ourselves first only, we try
Procreating practice to channelize self,
For aspiring to do only, we fulfill
Venturing out to new prospects
For only then we hold it forth to others,
To be remembered and remarked.
After all, we human beings love
Dwelling on stories, peppy and perky
And in the end, we bid farewell,
Persisting or rather revering
As one in these countless, unique stories.

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