Books

Reading is the portal To take you where you long to be. The book you hold Becomes a giant, walk-through screen. A looking glass. Take one step, then two. The words are your guide, Your mind is the key. The words ebb and flow, Like the fountain pen on paper. They dance and leap Like ballerinas across a stage. They come in clusters, Both large and small. They take over my mind, Like an overgrown forest. They pull me back and forth Through time and reality. They are a fluorescent stone In the dark mine of my soul. They take me through pain and joy Longing and satisfaction Trials and joy. They guard and guide me. They take me where I long to go. They quiet my hiraethness for a time. They are lovely, Because they allow me to hide, Roam Their mazes and corridors. They are cruel, Because eventually they must return me To a place I have no desire to be apart of. A place I do not belong.