Such A
Cliché As This
I can’t help but
believe
it is the
sincerest dream
of any writer
to compose
a brand new
cliché.
To author a pithy
turn
of phrase,
or of plot,
or of ambient
nature sounds
or symbolic
sartorial details
that signify a
meaning
so purely and
universally undeniable
that thirty, or
three hundred years from now
it would still
cause eyes to roll,
mouths to cringe.
To sneak her way
into the poem
of a teenager who
knows he will never
understand or be
understood,
or into the first
novel of the mother
who finds herself
at the community college,
nest empty,
earning her wings.
To burn in the
heart of every lover
who knows theirs
is a story
for the ages, the
culmination
of all the love
that has ever been
and will ever be.
Because why do we
write,
if not to live
forever?
If not to capture
Truth.
And Beauty.
And all that is
Eternal.
