Even time won’t slacken book’s grip on me
who like a helpless puppy
yelps for more knowledge as unto milk
even when others say I’m filled.
I sought for light
to trace pathways of life
and only pages give brighter ones
Books are the carvings of deities
the songs and tears of giants
yet their shrines lack priests
for it’s a path not all will take
since scarcely does it lead to fame.
But you’ve sworn to be their keeper
to save our dreams and give us life
your office therefore
though a hovel
shall draw princes and paupers
like the three wise men with gifts
who’d bow to your evergreen trees
that holds fruits of might.
Yours is a throne of insight
and our keeper of knowledge
that whets my blunt brain everyday.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...