Books are like us humans
Words that express and shows,
Thoughts that mingle w/ emotions that are written
In blue ink with allies and red with foes

A trek to be read or forgotten
Or a moment to be shared and rejoiced
Uniqueness with words and phrases are the key
But only a few pages there is to see,

Part of history that was lost
Until the faithful and waiting day
It will be carefully and mostly cherished,
The story that would change in a way

But how could it be a good book?
The readers would dreadfully look
Of how short and simple
The life of a man who saved us all

You will not know of how he how fall
For you are hesitant to read
A book with so little pages,
Lines that show the freedom without cages

Thoughts of the mind made to actions
Then those actions written in history
A fight for inner-peace or destruction
To live with Faith, Harmony and glory

Components that show of what is humanity
Books like that are of the utmost rarity
It cannot be judged by its cover,
Judge shall, only after reading and knowing

Of how the thee felt while writing
Then only will you begin to understand
Of how one page of words can turn our destiny around,
Inner contentment can then be found

Life is short and the world is small
But with the continuous thread of string
The red string of faith will then cling
To our diminutive but everlasting story