The Book of Life

Some days, I put down

the pen and walk to

the library where people,

past and present, have

etched their life’s story into

the history books – recounting

moments unique to them.

Each chapter captures

memories: different points

in time. Some chapters mention

important characters who

were once important to

the story line but are never

mentioned again. Some chapters

may not make sense to the reader.

Some chapters can be filled

with struggle and strife,

as others contain instances

of bliss and light. I can turn

to the next page and notice

a shift in tone. The mood can

shift like the day turns to

night. Settings change. People

evolve. Conflicts arise. Tension

builds. The plot thickens.

A chapter can take a day

to write or it can take years;

it all depends on the writer’s

journey. Sadly, some people

aren’t able to finish their story

before the ink runs dry,

but what was once written

leaves a mark that can’t

be erased. I can take any

given book off of a shelf

and know the pages between

the front and back cover

contain someone’s story

meant to be told. Every written

word came from one’s

heart and soul. I put back

each book in their designated

spot for someone else to read.

I took a break from writing

to learn from someone else’s

story. Tonight, I set down

my pen, but I’ll pick it up

again and start writing a new

chapter tomorrow morning.