The echoes of what never was
No end for there was no beginning
A story that writes and rewrites itself
The author long forgotten
An open book on the table
But the text is unreadable
The language familiar
Yet no one understands
Open to interpretation
But having only one meaning
No title on the cover
Pages are falling apart
Scribbled words on every line
The paragraphs are undefined
In them both everything and nothing
