Narrative (a poem)

The narrative we chase 
often 
is not our own.
It’s an undesirable dream 
dwelling outside self;
a nightmare 
of someone else’s choosing.
Its presence,
its pressure,
its urgency
make it seem
the only story 
to be lived
if one is to be deemed
successful,
worthy,
accomplished,
more than nothing,
something 
in this world. 
Many todays,
futures,
and
yet to be’s 
have been
and continue to be 
crushed under
its unbearable weight.   
Yet,
in the center 
of who it is that is you 
dwells a different tale,
a story of promise,
a narrative born
with humanity’s first breath,
a divine blessing
as old as time,
a memory engrained 
in the foundational
elements of you,
of all of you. 
The story you are living 
that grows 
from the depths of you
is the only life you can live. 
If you sit still long enough
you can hear 
it’s ancient rhythm
beat within your heart. 
It belongs to you. 
It is you. 
You are the beloved. 
You are accepted. 
You are enough. 
This narrative,
this eternal, 
this internal story
is the one the world needs to hear 
because 
it belongs to you. 
It is no hero’s myth. 
It is your reality. 
It is magnificent. 
No one can tell you
that you are doing it wrong. 
It belongs to you. 
Live
into
this
story. 
It is the only one
you have ever had. 
It belongs to you. 
  —bshivers 

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