Email Poem

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Poem

What do you see when you open that book? 
Words scattred across the page like a million ants. 
But that inwhich you view is more than just a clusster of 
words. 

The writter more than a source of entertainment. 
For every laugh i've had to feel pain. 
The cold dark night isnt a worn use but 
my life. 

Ive lived many times and when my flesh turns cold. 
I will live forever in this verse. 
For here I am that which I could never be. 

I am the creator , I am the clown, The lover , The one true beacon of light. 

Remember me as this. 
Forget the truth and embrace the myth. 
What do you see when you pick up that book? 

The ghost who haunts the back cover. 
The man I could not find even myself. 

See the story for what it is. 
Remember the name and embrace the shadow 
that is cast from the tree that once stood amoungst 
nothing in a empty field. 

Do not question what was only a thought of 
reflection. 
Seek for what can be. 
For amoungst the binding and worn out verse. 

Amoungst the illusion does exist the man known only 
to me. 
Apon the shelf a dust covered copy exists like a tombstone 
in a graveyard. 


When you randomly open to 
a page . 
I question what will you see?

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