< Issue 4 >
The Book of Secrets
Janet Scott McDaniel
My fingers trace faintly embossed lines
that grace the ancient leather cover.
Within its well-worn pages
there lies a wisp of almost;
words flying on gossamer wings
in the twilight between knowing
and not knowing.
My visions dance to music from the black keys,
floating upon the page in fiery luminescence,
yet they have no more permanence
than breath upon a mirror.
Ink pales upon the page as I read on
finding no final chapter
yet wanting, needing there to be one.
Only a fierce knowing remains
as within the echoes of lifetimes
we find each other once again
together upon a page.
Dare I succumb to eternal longing?
Intoxicated by the fragrance of possibilities
I dream of you in celestial starlight;
my night shadows receding
as goodbye becomes a second chance,
the warmth of a golden dawn.
Pen in hand, black is the color of my words
as I etch the final chapter onto vellum stone.
Gently closing the book, I hold it tight
breathing deeply of the past
exhaling the present
as I hold you
saying the words I dare not speak.
The Book of Secrets
Janet Scott McDaniel
My fingers trace faintly embossed lines
that grace the ancient leather cover.
Within its well-worn pages
there lies a wisp of almost;
words flying on gossamer wings
in the twilight between knowing
and not knowing.
My visions dance to music from the black keys,
floating upon the page in fiery luminescence,
yet they have no more permanence
than breath upon a mirror.
Ink pales upon the page as I read on
finding no final chapter
yet wanting, needing there to be one.
Only a fierce knowing remains
as within the echoes of lifetimes
we find each other once again
together upon a page.
Dare I succumb to eternal longing?
Intoxicated by the fragrance of possibilities
I dream of you in celestial starlight;
my night shadows receding
as goodbye becomes a second chance,
the warmth of a golden dawn.
Pen in hand, black is the color of my words
as I etch the final chapter onto vellum stone.
Gently closing the book, I hold it tight
breathing deeply of the past
exhaling the present
as I hold you
saying the words I dare not speak.
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