Wet Paint
I was just like you and many others,
when the world rotated the other
way round. We only knew each other
by voices and energy. We fed on the
grid of the sun.
One day, a library appeared with the morning mist,
carrying all the knowledge I ever wanted to know.
Without hesitation, I raced into the library;
I hadn't read "WET PAINT" behind the
entry door.....
I indulged in a quiet literary moment,
as I read how the world came to be,
a rogue cosmic stone that re-winded
the evolutionary clock, and many more
knowledge I was forbidden to know
by my invisible guardians and ancestors.
Regrets sank in when a voice told me
it could see my body! It could see the prison
of my soul!
I wasn't the only one;
many other souls had entered the library,
getting painted by the wet brush of tabooed
knowledge.
As time elapsed, the invisible ones were outnumbered
by painted souls, turning to ghosts and genies in the
new era.
Still, the library is there. Some invisible souls are wary,
gazing at the library's entry door from a distant corner......
Date of Entry: 2/2/2018
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