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.
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