The Bookstore...

There were stacks of books everywhere. I saw shelves side by side oozing with knowledge. These stories weren't my own but their author was inviting me in. I could pick any book. The thick one about a Russian. The short play about the Donne Scholar who is struck with cancer. I find the one by the laguna tribe member inviting us to her Ceremony. Or I could pick up the strange looking one. The one that looks so familiar but yet so distant. The leather cover is worn but still young. The pages are from all different periods. I read stories that are mine. I quickly flip to the back in anticipation. There I find the words telling of a young man standing in a bookstore. I realize this is my book. I am scared, is it out there for anyone to read? Or am I priveleged to see the art being created? I look at the book and smile. Soon it will be full with more wonderful stories than I ever could imagine. I will come back to this book and reflect but for now I am going to fill its pages.