THE BOOK OF LIFE

Mainak Dhar

Dog-eared covers,

enclose fading text,

missing pages I seek,

unknown chapters ahead

I try and flip ahead,

perhaps steal a glance,

blank pages greet me,

my future a game of chance

Fate fills each page,

as I sleep,

and hope that the new day,

brings what I seek.

A rusted pen,

ink long dried,

my name on it,

lies by the side

A sudden impulse,

and I took in hand,

the rusted pen,

from its broken stand

Writing my dreams,

in the blank pages ahead,

line after line filled,

with hopes in my head

Blank no more,

filled pages before me,

my future, as I want

my life to be.

It may well change,

like chalk on slate,

but at least I'll know,

the author was me, not fate.