I enter through worn pillars;
An arched doorway of cobwebs.
Into an ancient burial ground
Of generations dusty tombs.
Catalogs like stepping stones
Lay the path to thoughts relics.
Whispers of lost ghosts egos
Echo across the wasteland.
I'm just browsing through time
Looking for an interesting era,
Or symbols on old scrolls
Showing forgotten maps to utopia.
History, confined to paper
Scholars fold an oragami truth.
They book-mark hidden civilizations,
Interpreting rune stone stanzas.
I sail the curved spine of books
On a fiction/fantasy exploration
Imagination, be my minds wind;
Carry me to seas past reality...
