Miracle of Books

Opened book and held within my hands
Flat object made from dried pulp,
Once a mighty tree, cut down, then pressed.
Thin pages blow within the morning breeze,
Dark symbols, squiggles appear like magic,
Pass before my eyes, become a portal
Inside another’s mind.
 
Another poet speaks inside my head,
Novels unfold their plots,
News conveys what happens in the world,
Binds me with others I’ve never met,
Citizens of distant lands and times.
Miraculous that shackles of time
Could be so easily released, darkness lifted,
New ideas streaming as light
Working magic as words flash within my mind.

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