The Book of Life

Blank pages in my mind
Quivering with the anticipation
Of beautiful scrawling words,
Offhand doodles that decorate corners,
Pages rippled and torn with use

As He reads the story He set into motion
But the characters continued
Through maturing experiences
Of love and loss,
Oblivious to the silent companion
Traveling alongside us –
The invisible, omnipotent Author

But inevitably He must
Gently shut the book,
Pressing the corners together with care,
And sigh with the Universal Sigh of Satisfacton
As He sits calmly in His chair,
Hands folded together, sitting quietly in His lap,
And patiently awaits the arrival of
His characters, His creations, His children.