The story should have ended.
My words should cease.
But there is more to be authored
than readers to please.
Did I walk away?
No. Success had to pay
my hardwork and my strife without delay.
I did not end my quest
so be my guest
As the story unfolds.
I picked the cloth and felt the pattern
the fabric was a lantern
that shed light on the shadows of old.
As history began to unfold
I realised it, ajei, I see.
The cloth belongs to my mother.
The treasure my old man showed me
was more than anything that would make me richer:
It was a memory of our lover
My mother.
More than enough.
I took the chest and walked out of the cave.
Thierry-Century
Vibrant words 