Go Back

In the end
We always go back to what we are
And every time
What we are is different from what we used to be

Sooner or later
The scaffolding of our self-story comes tumbling down
Revealing us, raw and unscripted
If only for a moment

The stories live their life and then they die
The Love becomes the love
Then becomes a love
And then it fades into the dark well of the past

The delusions live their life and then they die
The Hurt becomes a hurt
A hurt becomes a blessing
And then it fades into the dark well of the past

Sooner or later
We always go back to what we are
Raw and unscripted, if only for a moment.

My name is Florin. On my blog, Riddle Me This, I write about the power of stories to move people and, sometimes, mountains. I write about what makes the difference between stories that build and stories that undermine and destroy. About how to change those narratives and reconnect with ourselves.

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com