A Million Dreams

A poem on the gift of books

I walk over to the bookcase
a million dreams stare back

strange worlds
new wine
drink deep
know time
lost sleep
slow climb
wash me
sublime 

I sit with the open pages
spilt ink speaking aged love

my home
new kind
pure zeal
few find
please kneel
too blind
full meal
divine

I see the world again
old things burn with new fire
old things burn with new fire

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