The Book

Where does it go?

Opening, closing, flipping
he held it in one hand
then the other

Observing, Reading, Speaking
the words that boldly stood
eyes to him, reaching out and plunging
deep, deep into his abyss

Where did it all go? Where does it stay,
no thought was needed, no emotion
to understand the vast difference between
his abyss, and the abyss of that other,
that other who sits and looks to him.

It is the maker that knows, for surely he has it,
the ability to look deeper, deeper even, than he has dared go.