The narratives of our lives
are not long books, taking
little place on the shelves
of time, but to read them
the first, and only time,
it takes many decades,
eight, nine, or ten if
we are lucky.
(Some books are so
short, their first and last
page are the same,
containing only the print
of a baby's thumb.)
Then, suddenly,
we come at the last page,
and in the dimming world
we have to close those
covers for the first time,
and place our book
on the shelf among those
already read to the end
in the library of our species.
05.03.2025
Ei kommentteja:
Lähetä kommentti