All the minutes turn into hours, incarceration;
These years have been taken by my own hand.
Lost in an endless desert. Sinking in the sand
Until bones are bleached white. Devastation.
I began a search for a new library of Alexandria
Knowing that what I find might just be solitude.
Clarity comes at a lesser cost than finding peace
Because a crystal clear river can still be polluted.
Any simple choice can change the outcome.
I wonder, is that what led to the fall of Rome?
If I sacrifice my time to obtain potential knowledge
I’m letting my life burn away in the air like a candle wick.
But I don’t do that. I dream of an Alexandria, a free haven
For every man, and fight to experience a life worth keeping.
At the end I’ll place a book on the shelf in Alexandria.
Great or bad the book is mine. To avoid this hysteria
Thriving within I’ll write on even during a silent feria.
Alexandria is a line, as all the books
LikeLike