Lonely Song Publishing - Writings

VI.

At last you walk on down the stair

Away from lights

Far from the show

To the heart

The heart and soul

Or so it should be

Right?

I too thought so

The library indeed is full

Full of things that were said

And things that were dreamt

And known and learned and taught

So much is here that can be bought…

You shudder at the thought

Who could price these dusty volumes?

The spirit held in long-dormant slumber

Yet alive and banished from all sight

Dying to a world

That tramples down the highways

Of the Great Conversation

With the shrieking gold-thirsty desires

Of Now Especially

Or whatever comes next

If it comes

(And does it matter?)

And now the cold wind blows.

And now your liquid thoughts are running

Rolling down your cheeks as though

They might just freeze and crack and shatter

Success success, but does it matter?

Your smiling guide, unheeding, beams

“Finally see

The library free

From thoughts rank and musty

From words dry and rusty

From almost all the nets and traps

(Just avoid the dusty jackets)

“And after years of service here

Perhaps you will have some

Great, sincere, well-wrought, clear

Song that you might hum

And if your song is strong and proud

And if your head is set on straight

And if your poem is well-formed

And if your steps are never late

And if your story is a tale

Of length and depth and quick-spun fate

Well then!

You may stand up proud in the place that ours

And the masters’ works call home-

Find some space in the long back row

And proudly add your own”

But...

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