Ask me how does it feel to be an old book forgotten upon the back shelf. In a room you used to visit, a place you found comfort as a child. A book you used to read, to affirm your fickle faith in what that is good. This book you used to love, it told you tales you wanted to believe. There were tales of love friendship and great adventure. This book kept you, in days you were lost, this book reminded you that all will be well. This book you believed in was written in old words. This book was from the old world. Than came a day when this book did not apply. When the hunger in your stomach, this book could not satisfy. That day you began to question, this old friend. That day is that day it began the end. This book was now, a fairy tale of sorts, this book now was a lie for the lost. As your wants begun to grow, this book could not help and this you know. You stopped coming into the room, this book was kept. You felt misguided by this book you kept. Your sorrow turned to anger and you left.
But this book reads the same and stays where you left. This book meant what it said, this book will never change unlike the world you once fled. This book is bound by it’s word, so in this shelf it will forever rest. In the room you use to visit and silently wept.
As time turns your silk black into grey, maybe than one day. You will seek this old book, as in those days they say wisdom is found. In those days they say, time slows down. In those days they say, memories are found. If you still remember, where this book is kept, you can come read it again. The book will be same, but the words may seem more believable, you would have changed but the book will always, read the same.