Front row seats

All we ever are is appearing Now.
At this moment.

The stories about who we are and our past
we drag into the present 
and the Presence.
And give them front row seats.

We give them all our attention and 
identify; this is ME.

It has become a habit 
we do not fully notice. 
An automatism.

But wait... 

Where are they, 
those stories, 
when we do not think about them?

Now.

And who are we without our stories?