A Short Story

Like the shining of the noon day sun,
we are often blinded by the glaring lights of hope.                            
The passage of time and the dawn of a new day,
visions of tomorrows and what dreams will bring.
The beginning of a story, an unread book.

Days, weeks, years are all a jumble.
Our destiny lies in wait, preying upon our weaknesses,
yet, fortifying our strengths.
Like a puzzle, piecing together each moment,
narrating the story from the beginning to the end.

We tell tales of courage and bravery, timeless sagas.
We mock and condemn our own shortcomings,
frightened by the prospect of what might have been.
Always intrigued by what could have been,
never seeing the story as it truly was meant to be.

A lifetime can be held in a mirror,
reflecting all that we have achieved,
revealing the truth in all of us.
Never falsifying and always consistent.
Not just a story, but our own personal journal.

Like the fading light of a summer sunset,
yesterday's memories are now but a glimmer.
No longer attainable, gone from within our reach.
Nothing left by the chronicles of our lives.
The story has ended, the book now closed.