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A Book Reader

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Book reader, I too wanted to locate
My calm bliss in humility of conscience,
And I adored them, those strange paths, innate,
Where there's no hope and there is no remembrance.

To ever swim along the brooks of lines,
To enter straits of chapters with impatience,
And to observe how spumy torrent shines,
To hearken to the roar of coming tide once.

But in the evening I observe with dread
Night shadow right behind the icon case and
The pendulum, unmoving, as Moon's head,
That shines above the shimmering swamp wasteland.

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