The bookmark is a traveller
That goes from book to book,
And I’m the great unraveller
Attempting to unhook
The mysteries of the ages
That wait for those who seek
The wisdom of the sages
From words that are antique,
To open up such pages
To find such beauty there
Is more than gold in wages
To see the soul laid bare.
A mirror to one’s inner self
Is what one’s looking for.
But here’s a warning to who else
Might stumble through a door
Into a place where an image
Of their deeds is standing fore
That can only make them grimace
And their whole lives then deplore.
August 2011.
Copyright by D. J. Brennan, Derbyshire.