Friday, March 9, 2012

Poem: The Book

I opened the book.
I turned to the first page.
I read.

Each word sounded in my head like a bell.
Each sentence flashed about, like a raging symphony.
Each paragraph changed my very perception.

I felt my worldview shifting.
I felt everything changing.
I wanted to tear my eyes away.
Something screamed inside.

No, stop.
No more!

But my hand turned the page,
and my eyes could not tear away.
And another,
and another,
and another page I went.

The light around me dimmed.
It became dark, but still I read,
into the night.
Deep into the night I read.

Finally, as sun tipped horizon,
a small bead of light wreathed in dark,
I came to the last page.

My fingers trailed over final words,
in a daze,
then I closed the book and stood.

And though I stood still,
the world spun.

And I knew what I had become.

© 2012 Clifton Hill, all rights reserved.
Any lover of books can relate. Relate to what happens when you lay hands on a book that transforms you, shifts you to another realm, another time, another body, another world. Thoughts, concepts, entire peoples presented before you in compelling fashion that transport you.

Is this what happens to you? Do you become something greater and grander when absorbed by a book? It can for me and there is a certain power within that ability.

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