A man without a story
Is like the night sky being split
By a wire slicing crosswise
From a source that won’t admit
That its power’s been retired
And no longer can emit
The same kind of charge a star might
If it were permitted
The sky being split that way
No longer can be true
When it calls itself a heaven
Or a place that you might fly through
But the teller of a story
This human illumination
This electro-static surge
This divine vibration
Is a light that slices crosswise
Magically converging
With gravity to tie him to
This murky world of words
This light doesn’t care how fine it is
A sunset or sunrise
It just needs to be a beacon
So the night might come to recognize
A man without a story