The Storyteller and the Daughter of the Sultan

The monsoons caress the waving stalks of grain
and the Storyteller stands beside the crystalline stream
   The Storyteller, a callow youth
   Whose mind can hold the infinite world
   But is unsure of anything in his heart

She smiles at him,
She, the daughter of the Sultan of the Sea and Sky
of the Waves and the Winds
of the Rivers and the Trees
She, the most beautiful maiden
   of all the maidens on five thousand islands
   even beyond the silver peaks of the Cordillera
   beyond the great Seas
   beyond the shimmering starlit sky

   And his lips now move
   with no words

   "Tell to me a story,"
the Princess asks
   her dark eyes of mystery glittering
   as she smiles sweetly again

   And the Storyteller only sighs
   his heartbreaking
   "I have no stories," he whispers
For indeed he has no stories
   worthy of such a beautiful maiden