A bookkeeper once told me:
If it is possible in my entirely mortal capacity
to read as much books as I can, I'll do so
For who else will listen to the hearts and minds
of storytellers, truth seekers and prophets?
Who else will turn the pages
of unopened, uncharted books?
Who else will live in the worlds
and fulfill the hopes of those who made them?
Who will seize the magic of words and spin them
into a believable reality?
Who will?
Who will?
And very suddenly
as I looked into this old soul with shaking fingers
soft and wrinkled creases in his face,
it's as if his dream
transcended and became mine, as well
I once went to a bookstore and felt extremely sad that one day my old friends will become a part of history like they never really happened