When eyes awake, where do they rest?
Upon what bed of sky?
Do souls retreat where flames have swept,
Or wings of Ashes, fly?

I met a heart — a hollow deep
And fell within her Sea
A Woman who wore novels plain,
Like Poetry set free.

Where shall the tender hearted go
When Shadows press the Light?
I saw her weep a tear aflame
Through mist of Smoky Night.

A Lady from the distant Shelf
Of Records kept, unseen
I read but one and knew them all
The Volumes in between.

Where do we go when curtains fall
To Life’s own Library
Where Heaven’s Books contain the World
Not Flames but Memory.

:: 09.15.2024 ::