Book Upon the Shelf
There is a book sitting on the shelf.
Is is just lying there? Or is it thinking?
Does it read itself on occasion?
Or does it already know its own story?
How does it feel when I read it?
Does it find my hands sweaty?
Does it wish to be read faster?
Does it ever get tired as I read its pages late into the night?
Does it ever want to just be left shut?
Does it ever get sick of the same old story?
Does it ever dream of a new ending?

The book still sits upon the shelf.
But I can see it doesn’t really at all.
It breathes; it thinks; it lives.
It breathes the words of an author.
It thinks the words printed on its pages.
It lives its story every moment.
It wants to be opened, to share all that it knows. That is its job.
Upon its shelf, it doesn’t just sit...it waits.