I am a book
A weapon
A yoke
You know this
You must!
You set my ribbons in place
Firmly, grasping at the words within
Gasping at the “Glory Be”
Slipping into slumber
As the world turns
I sit on my shelf
My pages unturned,
Containing within myself
Liturgy! The Word of God spoken! A life worth living
Oh but why do you ignore me?
Adore all else until the last light
Forces you awake
Asleep in my pages
You lie.
I see frustration burrowing within you
Pages drifting out of your spine as you
Forget.
Who you are?
What you’ve done?
Then all you can do is heave
Your rot-less husk of a hardback
Into your shelf and open
Me. I. Your friend and your mentor.
Your closest ally and your starkest reality.
It is I, bound in this menial leather,
That is freest.
And you will again fall asleep,
Many hours forgotten,
Unwritten.
Unspoken.
Not so much prayed as endured. Not so much spoken as sighed.
