An Old Book

I read the book. The passage. The verse. It wasn’t red, but it had value. Black letters on white pages. Very thin, mind you. The translation, I assume, was the same. Many, many, many years ago, people decided what this book would say and somewhere along the line, I said I would read them, listen to them, and follow them. Is that stupid or mind control? Either way, I’m there.

Because of those words, my mind goes Old Testament, wondering about their lives. Miles in saddles? Interpreted dreams? Prophecies? Weird. And I still think love bonds me to pages and people. It’s almost like a rhythm. A part of the past. Calling me to participate. Could we all? I don’t know.

Others come and go. Some friendly, some strangers. Besides the loss, not knowing holds me down. I love so many. The streets of gold are going to be there for us, right? I want some assurance, but the unseen has all my thoughts. It’s times like these I feel the most lost.

Even though I know it’s up to chance, I’m gonna go back. Back into the building. Back into the book. Back into the mind. Strangely enough, waiting and watching is so satisfying, doubt included. Could there be more? That’s a question for another day. But rest assured, while it can be hard to know for sure, timing is everything and when times change, I’ll still be there.

© Will