last turn
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a book …
waits a gaze …
to feed the hungry
starvation by ignorance and ill ids
(neglect, the inadvertent symptom, devouring)
it has done so for time immeasurable -
edges faded to sepia and
ragged as a vagrant
but formidable, nonetheless …
the last of its ilk since “the flash”
premium paper bound in
24Kt gold leaf …
white as winter and watermarked
waiting, wondering …
waiting …
precious words -
sustenance for the souls, human
glyphs placed by wisdom
to guide the lost … the weary
bloodless and barren
the bountied and beautied
all and few …
pushed by a ram or dragged by angels
discernment for the undeserved
and the eyesore …
the pages are patient
yet still they ache
from binding to backing they suffer
to be touched and seen and
torn in the intense joy of manipulation
discussed and absorbed …
but “the flash” was just that -
the conflagration that
these powerfully priceless words
were meant to forestall
and that fiery beast was thorough …
the gold-rimmed leafs will wait -
oh, how they will abide in torturous silence
those inestimable phrases
will lie unseen … unappreciated
til they are but dust
for there are no longer
any eyes …
to read.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, February 3, 2024
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2024
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