The Book of Life

Trapped in the pages,
A book never opened by a human,
Never discovered.
The unknown author lies quiet,
Silently writing the lives of the people,
In their blank books.
Since the day of birth,
The book has been written.
The author writes constantly,
Constantly recording your thoughts,
Your feelings,
Your choices,
Everything that happens in your life.
He writes and writes
Until he reaches the last page,
The last line,
The line that ends your life.
He sets down the book,
The book that will never be opened again.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

It is sad but your words are true. I wrote a book of people names and stories so I will remember them later in my life. So many people have touched our life and we lose them with time and new road in a life. A poem that made me think. A outstanding poem.
Coyote

[JustWantLove]

In retrospective, of past visions and lofted flights, an amazing view from above; it's like a boost, floating to the highs and seeing the grand scheme. Great performance!