It Was the Word After All
Wrapped into a cocoon of impenetrable meaning and faith he followed the light
Doom and gloom had once shadowed his library of dreams and contentment
Scattered in his loony resemblance of a rational mind words rearranged reason
Analyses can be paralyses when parables and images leave inclinations behind
On a scrap heap of garbled projections irrational rationalizations and repression
Tobias lifted his weary bones from a rocking chair next to the fireplace of passion
Surrounded by words written on actual pages he settled for days in the night
Dust had gathered on poems and fables great words of legends and scribblers
There were simply too many pages to turn revisit and explore for the book worm
They called him a loon and bedlam was a good friend just as the literal works
He had once been a young man of many impressions expressions and hunger
For learning understanding comprehension and an unquenchable thirst for more
It had all started with Pippy Longstocking and Famous Fives’s escapades and
There was no escape route from caves and quest for memorable anticipation
Robinson on his island The Little Prince Plato’s Cave and the Never Ending Story
His hips had crumbled one leg was now shorter than to other and he limped
Held on to bannisters and a stick as he hobbled through a Theatre of the Mind
Mens sana in sana corpore ‘Carpe diem’ as he tried not to trip over the kilims
‘If I slide one book under one of my feet there will be equilibrium and harmony’
Book titles and covers a few manuals and a whole encyclopaedia of wisdom
Shelves all over the walls for ‘ex libris’ post scripts and forewarning letters
Summaries epilogues odysseys even epitaphs collected all for the same purpose
Some on the desk some under the bed and piles everywhere in leaps and bounds
He could not choose elevation at pure random and thus he went with his heart
The pedestals under his legs got taller and taller and he reached for the ceiling
Time ago he had draped oriental rugs from the plafond which he now vaulted
Firmly suspended under a seemingly weightless canopy of decorous carpets
Draped onto silken threads knots and the sheer beauty of pattern and purview
He gazed in awe and astonishment at more leather-bound volumes of charm
Jules Verne’s Travel to the Centre of the Earth and the journey was his own
07th March 2019
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2019
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