Life is the thread,

Which is to be spun,

Weaving a tale

That has only begun.

The chances are slim,

And the distance so far,

But perhaps with each human

We're more close than far.

The story is great,

Stretching miles around,

People gather from places

That have yet to be found.

The ends of the earth

And the skies are the limit,

The story is changing

Every which way each minute.

Each story a jewel,

Each tale a great chapter,

Each word a small part

In a book full of treasure.

This book is so tall,

And so wide and so thick,

For it tells a variety of tales,

So many from which one can pick.

My tale rests inside,

As does yours and your friend's,

But like in this poem

Each story must end.

The end is a beginning,

A start for the new,

For like in a heart's sequal,

Only the best ideas come to view.