The Lasting Book

Dust rises, dust settles, 

for the one who comes through, 

awakens its time. 

Shelves lined with books. 

Oh books! They hide beneath, each in their own little nook. 

Strides of the stranger create a clatter rising beyond the walls,

reverberating the shelves. 

They are disturbed. 

Bindings come from the shelves, to be peered at, looked over. 

The dust, yet again, settles. 

As yet the ones who seek beyond the world of dust, 

they repeat. 

Spines are splayed, pages turned. 

The mind plays and thoughts churn. 

Every paragraph, word, and letter. 

Light dances up and down the yellowed pages, from time and time again their knowledge reunites. 

Stories of brave warriors, brilliant men, and terrifying monsters, round the pages,

threatening their break from the bindings of old glue, thread. 

Spines reunite, dust rises once again, and leaves the space warm, electric. 

From where it once rose, the dust settles to one day rise again.