The first time you read a book
Is not something you can experience twice.
Abstract ideas take a concrete look
As words are scribbled down, all becomes concise.
The end of a story must not be mourned;
Its very beginning is a celebration!
The excitement should be remembered;
Rush of anticipation,
As your eyes travel across the text,
Drawing up endless alternatives.
What will happen next?
Is that not what life symbolises?
We must celebrate our unawareness of the future
Ignorant of what the next chapter will carry.
Re-reading your favourite book is similar
To looking at an old photograph from your history;
A book is a life – constant thrall.
Books shall always be man’s dearest friend,
For are we not all
Stories in the end?