Sunday, November 2, 2008

Another Life

Another Life
I picked up a book from the table
The dusty corner table
Where books lay in troubled stacks
Long untouched, long ignored
Sad, because through books
The past can touch you
Lightening the load
Of your ignorance

I picked up a book
From the dusty table
Opened and began to read
I found myself in the middle
Of a marvellous poem
A lament for beauty lost
And glory spent
A cry for all that could have been
Had men been less cruel
And less corrupt
Less intent on breaking
All they could not comprehend
Less blind to breaking hearts
Less proud of arrows
Sent in hate
Less bent
On destruction

It was a sad and futile song
Eloquent celebration
Of the power in words
Words long hidden
By the covers of the book
Lying untouched
On a dusty corner table
I turned back to the title page
And read the tragic title
Below those summary words
Words as hard
As a summary execution
Was a name
The name was my name
But I had no recollection
Of any of it
Had I written all this
In another life?

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