Untitled Poem 9/3/2020

Untitled. 9/3/20

Like the beat of my heart
pulse the vistas behind my eyes,
spread out like a map for
my mind to follow;
my fingers caress
the stitches in the weave
tracing a fabric made of tales.

Tales of love, life, and pain
to endure.
Cliches stand by the roadside
hawking their wares,
a chalice and a sword in a stone.
Omens point the way beside shooting stars
which lead to maidens who do not need saving
because it's just a story.