A world is waiting beyond my fingertips,
shaped in ink and paper and other bits
of chemicals, plastics, and pieces of trees,
black shapes flowing across a white landscape with ease.
Forming worlds without measure, beyond count, timeless,
Creating mountains to conquer, our minds made restless.
I surround myself with the words,
Pile up pages on my bed like birds.
spill them over onto my floor,
fill my closet and my drawers.
It still isn't enough, I devour all and crave more
I must fill my heart with mounds of lore.
This one holds tales of princes and kings,
this one has stories of people like you and me.
This one is a classic, that one rather new.
This one is weird, and has sparkly vampires too.
I read them all, caress each page
Skim across time and escape my cage.
For life is short and comes with walls.
Barriers surround us, big and tall.
Whether in the form of money, knowledge, or status,
Our world surrounds us like a lattice.
We are kept imprisoned within our birthright,
And except for books would never know further light.
So I reach for these words that soothe my soul.
They teach that there is more, and it helps fill this hole
that burns within and it flames ever higher,
for though words can lie books are beautiful liars.
I'll sit within the confines, content to look about,
For with these windows to worlds I am happy without.