OctPoWriMo 2

Stories are for repeating the better 
to remember them if you were not there
a curve tending back toward beginning
sleep somehow never coming overnight
drifting into the future like a dream
minutes lost unaccounted uncounted
hours never known that we are born into
space that would be empty if not for us
inhabited for a moment then gone
better to have been not forgotten yet
all of life a novel still left unread
printed on blank pages without a shelf
the end is our beginning without it
our moments would be nothing but a self