Refractive Lens
by Michael Romani

Each story that we weave
Rather story or verse
We come to believe
As its own hermetic universe

The hows and the whys
That define our fiction
As we half realize
Our best depiction

Can at times seem as infinite
Manufactured as these are
As self imposed cosmological questions
That at times may just go a little far

Third person and omniscient 
The story teller is Godlike and magnificent
Telling it all through filter perspective
And maybe more than a little invective

The messy murk that makes up life
Makes a bland yet stirring story
Filled with both love and strife
An almost ambiguous sense of glory

There in all of its good sense
Is a song that feels as real as its pretense
Like some sort of first person complex
It is perhaps too casual in the story it reflects

There some questions as to what it presents
Perhaps a few more as to what it represents
There in its mandate of its pendency
We find the whisper of wished for ascendency

Flatlining in a one on one correspondence
As the reader is confused in despondence
What is real and what is not?
And soon enough - the plotline is forgot

(c) December 15, 2017  Michael Romani
All Rights Reserved