Bondage

I often look at my bookshelf and it dawns on me the beauty that it holds is far greater than what I ever will see. In all that it seems and what the eyes see, what the heart seeks, I shall never know. I often look at the dust that is now taken hostage of these marvels. I try to brush it off and I stop, as if forcing it to take me too for my story is in there, somewhere, not known to anybody. I often hold my breath and try to count all those stories that reminded me of mine, I hold my breath in hopes of forgetting to breathe for I shall seek solace in my dusty host drifting to the world that is my own.