The Book Called Life

Life is but an empty book

Pages waiting to be inked

Of betrayals etched in blood

Friendships writ in sand

Enmity carved in stones

Until time wears all

No one knows

The destiny of the characters

What lurks in pages ahead

Is it good? Or bad?

A knife wrapped in roses?

No one knows

Let the blood and sweat

Be the ink

Pen the pages

Increase the chapters

Not all books end

In happy endings

Some are left mysteries

For the readers to solve

For the book may end

But the story continues

What does the moon see

When it rises every night

Beautiful in its own right

Does it look down on us?

What books does it read?

What books are left on the shelves?

The moon doesn't care

If one book ends, it will pick another

Did it find the story interesting?

No one knows

For not all books end

In happy endings

-- Sarang Deshpande