We Are Like Books Filled With Short Stories

We are like books filled with short stories —

each one, perhaps, longer or shorter than others.

Some ports of memory stretch out to be novels.

Others are like novelettes or short prose of poetry.

How many times have you re-written your story?

Attempts to scratch out past ports of memory.

There once was a time when you wrote everything in ink.

Permanent in your book filled with short stories.

With every stroke of the pen, the words would breathe out:

Maybe some things are meant to last forever.

But there came a time when the pages were turned

and the characters you wrote with careful, loving hands —

They faded...

even when the ink remained.

From that day,

you began writing in pencil,

to ease the pain of mistakes —

to erase memories

with slight marks visible...

faded scars.

You and your books filled with short stories.

When will be the day that you pick up the pen

to write your heart's word:

Eternal?

Instead, you continue erasing the stories...

some stories of which have yet to be buried.

Short stories, novelettes, and all forms of poetry...

We are a book filled with short stories

As one book ends, another begins.

Lay down your pencil,

Pick up your pen,

This is the start of a new story.