Rare Book
Curator rings last bells
Closing for the night
In a deep dark sea
Behind blackened windows
Lies shelves in mystical infatuations
Where rare tomes must dwell away from modern day
Among ancient particles of manuscript saturation
Mysteries here they have no end
But, initiate in the middle of a murder; suicide
Drama, gradually unfolds as volumes friend
Forever reaching into mind
But, when romance grows placid or even thinks to die
That’s when passion for adventure begins
And the creator’s world comes to life
Swashbuckling across the places
Of both space and time
Islands are the pages
Where all are meant to be
But, the concern is for that something
A hope, for enlightenment inside thy keep
It’s a hand that simply chooses wise
Either, mingled fantasy or truthful care
A will to be cast away or thrills abound
Is the self among folios rare
Become the one held captive
Adrift in compelling song
Following upon knowledge
A walking traveler
That soon, will begin to run
Ageless secrets
And heroes
Do exist
Do them justice
Merely, turn a page
Of any book
Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment