…is a story

The unspoken truth is a story, a story that knows its own ending
it carries this unspeakable burden, with unyielding determination
the unspoken truth is a story, a story that remains hidden 
in a labyrinth in a vast library with many levels and many ladders 
in many volumes buried in many pages, written in many dialects 
by many authors from many lands
with many names and many tales and with many different endings
the unspoken truth is a story, never unraveled
its contents unknown, buried deep within its weighty tomes
its many secrets whispered into the darkness 
of the unreachable shadows, in the unfathomable depths
in the unexplored archives of the unending stacks
the unspoken truth is a story, a story that understands the gravity 
of its unwritten role, of its unknown burden, of its unbroken silence
unflinching, it stands strong in its resolve 
unwilling to be opened, unwilling to be awoken
unwilling to be spoken
the unspoken truth is a story, a story that understands
that it can never be unwritten, that once seen
it can never be unseen 
that what can never be unread, must forever be contained
within its ever untouched covers
the unspoken truth is a story, a story
that haunts the unending darkness
the heavy weight of obligation, renders each moment
in muted shades of melancholy
drifting in isolation in its ghostly hallows
its unspoken eternity of silence
© Ann Bagnall