The mirror reveals
A very unique notebook
A cherished volume
That I have chosen
to journal in
Today
Skin is the delicate parchment
Organs, bone, joint and sinew
The bindings and spine
Each cell,
Chapters.
War and Peace are but cliff notes
In comparison
Bible, Koran, Kaballah
Only echo its holiness
I need not think to
Turn the page
For the entry is already
Transcribing, recording
Jotting down every nuance
Never forgetting to
Scrawl in the margins a highlight,
An insight
And no editing is ever required
It is all there
All in perfect syntax and meter
It knows no time
To sit and scribble a few notes
For it opens and records
Through
Past, Present and future
As fluidly
As the ink
In my veins
Impossible to
Forget this book,
or leave it on my night stand
Where I think I do my best work
In those meditative states before sleep
And full awakening
Although it is there too.
I look in the mirror
As pages turn
A scar,
A tear
A wrinkle
Embeds itself on the well worn
Cover
A soft patina
A glow
That lets one know
This volume is well loved
Ancestry
Experience
Premonition
Relationships
All dancing across the pages
The bard sits in silence
A little jealous that
His eloquence
Was never able to quite capture
This in words
Sneak a peak
Read the last chapter
To see how it
All ends
What is
Found?
Just
Beginnings
http://www.kentbondart.com/portfolio-3/portfolio-3.html
