Lost In Library Maze
© Surazeus
2018 01 06
No, I am not lost in library maze
because I know the book I want to read
is somewhere in these endless rows of shelves,
assigned the correct category number
I wrote on the piece of paper I put
somewhere in one of my nine jacket pockets,
so if I can just read the little gold letters
that spell the titles of these ancient books
in the dusty twilight of silent halls,
I know I will find the secret of life
that my wife told me the first night we kissed,
but each time I turn the corner I find
another thousand books I want to read,
because my wife and children left before
I was dressed, riding on the city bus,
so if the librarian in slim red dress
would pay attention when I ask for help
I might know where to find the book I want
that tells the famous story about how
that famous woman with the name we know
performed the noble deed that saved our world,
because I know it should be on this shelf
where moonlight glitters on the shining pond
among the apple trees where I saw glimpse
of her face when I turned to call her name
behind those trees where whisper of her voice,
woven in the fabric of rustling leaves,
reveals the shadow of her memory,
but she was holding my hand when we left
the stone tower by the singing waterfall,
and she ran ahead to find the old path
where we gathered eggs and nuts among roots
that curl down into the soil of my heart,
so I call her name and I think she calls
my name in response so I climb the hill
where the sun gleams over thin jagged rocks
and when I pause on the edge of the world,
breathing wind that blows through my hollow bones,
I fear she cannot find her way back home,
so I call her name in the timeless wind
and the sea glitters purple where no eyes
look back at me from silent silver mist,
but somewhere up ahead in maze of rooms
I think she waits for me by door of glass,
however far the curving world may spin
beyond the flashing rainbow after rain
that splatters windows of library hall
where I am not lost without name or face,
still trying to call on the blinking phone
if I can find her name on scrolling list
that spirals deeper in my throbbing eye
because I am late to catch the last bus
so I can join my wife and daughters soon
who wait for me where the singer performs,
so I lie down in wet bushes to sleep
next to the red brick wall where spider weaves
fragile web of raindrops that glitter eyes
who watch me when I steal new raven wings
and run through white labyrinth of laughing books
which sing the names of every noble hero
killed in battle to defend queen of stars
who stands on pyramid of blinking eye,
waiting for me at the top of the sky
where I stand alone in indifferent rain.
© Surazeus
2018 01 06
No, I am not lost in library maze
because I know the book I want to read
is somewhere in these endless rows of shelves,
assigned the correct category number
I wrote on the piece of paper I put
somewhere in one of my nine jacket pockets,
so if I can just read the little gold letters
that spell the titles of these ancient books
in the dusty twilight of silent halls,
I know I will find the secret of life
that my wife told me the first night we kissed,
but each time I turn the corner I find
another thousand books I want to read,
because my wife and children left before
I was dressed, riding on the city bus,
so if the librarian in slim red dress
would pay attention when I ask for help
I might know where to find the book I want
that tells the famous story about how
that famous woman with the name we know
performed the noble deed that saved our world,
because I know it should be on this shelf
where moonlight glitters on the shining pond
among the apple trees where I saw glimpse
of her face when I turned to call her name
behind those trees where whisper of her voice,
woven in the fabric of rustling leaves,
reveals the shadow of her memory,
but she was holding my hand when we left
the stone tower by the singing waterfall,
and she ran ahead to find the old path
where we gathered eggs and nuts among roots
that curl down into the soil of my heart,
so I call her name and I think she calls
my name in response so I climb the hill
where the sun gleams over thin jagged rocks
and when I pause on the edge of the world,
breathing wind that blows through my hollow bones,
I fear she cannot find her way back home,
so I call her name in the timeless wind
and the sea glitters purple where no eyes
look back at me from silent silver mist,
but somewhere up ahead in maze of rooms
I think she waits for me by door of glass,
however far the curving world may spin
beyond the flashing rainbow after rain
that splatters windows of library hall
where I am not lost without name or face,
still trying to call on the blinking phone
if I can find her name on scrolling list
that spirals deeper in my throbbing eye
because I am late to catch the last bus
so I can join my wife and daughters soon
who wait for me where the singer performs,
so I lie down in wet bushes to sleep
next to the red brick wall where spider weaves
fragile web of raindrops that glitter eyes
who watch me when I steal new raven wings
and run through white labyrinth of laughing books
which sing the names of every noble hero
killed in battle to defend queen of stars
who stands on pyramid of blinking eye,
waiting for me at the top of the sky
where I stand alone in indifferent rain.
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