(Transition from the mundane to the marvel while reading a book-in poetic proses)
Like a stranger, unknown words knock on the consciousness of my mind
Still bound by the grey-walled world; dripping, oozing of a fear
Fear induced through the needle of an imaginable future, bright or dark
And fear spread by the present day scars.
Nevertheless, the glowing insistent words lent their hands to the fervently trying mind,
To lift it out of that dank dark hole of ignorance,
Persisting to teach and tame the cornered animal into the warm, parchment world of the written scroll.
The mind sees without eyes, as if an emotional soul peering through an outlandish entity,
Whatever the words whisper, whether turbulent clouds or a blood-dripping Daisy.
But soon, the mind draws back, tired from the ease,
Pulled back, unknowingly, unwillingly, unintentionally, into the familiar pain.
And the Dance unfolds between these two lovers;
Words caressing the distorted mind patiently, soothingly;
The mind learning the language the words speak
And with evermore ease, swooning sleepily into vivid dreams.
Thoughts that previously bullied the winged mind, rendering it flightless,
Scaring it sightless;
Whipping it worthless;
Torturing it tearless;
Up till now, the mind has tasted;
The tingling essence of the thousand things glinting, heard unimaginable stories of moors and of seas;
Cried with hurt and laughed with mending laughter,
Of the words…
They were intertwined, the words with the grateful mind;
And with every touch, the enchanting words would call the mind;
Into whatever luring fantasies that struck it, whether about a tree or a brook
Such is the Story of whenever the hand touches the Book…