Calm, The Reader reads in the dimming light

from volumes whose titles I can never quite see

Yet I sit below and occupy my scarred bench

watch and live through word and image

reflected from his eyes

A disciple, I exist vicariously

He reads the ponderings of sages

and he reads volumes of rant apolitical views

He reads poetry, philosophy, stories of now and then

cultures of the ancients, war and peace, religion too

He reads of adventure, nature, stars, the galaxies

He reads history, cookery, jubilation and yearning

confessions of fools and tutorials by thieves

When the night’s lamps illumine

I see his gaze pause to almost lift

but the pages’ grip is strong and he remains—-

Reason and light yawn to fade

We are two blessed or two doomed

The Reader and I

levitating or stumbling

between suspense and discovery

hunger and satisfaction

Until volumes of plenty

cease dropping from a mischief sky

or blindness grows in our minds and our eyes

we’ll be bound between cover and pages

the foolish and the wise🪶