Read by Rabbi Neil Blumofe.
If I open up my book
What will I find?
Will my life flash by –
A crawling child,
A misleading twin brother,
Bugs in cases in Paris,
Journals filled with words from here
To the moon –
As the wind blows the pages away?
Is it really my story?
Or some heartless,
Soulless obituary
Stating who I was
Or was not?
Is it a list of things I want to do?
My bucket list?
Details of Hanging Gardens in Babylon
Salt Flats in Bolivia
Ice caves dangerous and alluring.
Is it a detailed story of exactly everything
Ever known about me?
Or is it a book at all?
Maybe no one has written it yet
I haven't started my autobiography
So I guess it’s not a book
Just the wind passing by
Carrying pictures of people,
Places I’ve been.
Laughter and singing
As my life whirls by.