Burning Books

Image by Rafael Juárez from Pixabay

No more.

No more ideas
That lead us into error,
That lead us ceaselessly
Back into the past.

Higher, higher, higher.
Pile up those stiff-spined books,
Those musty ancient books
That smell of decay and glue
From so many repairs.

Now pile them high and weep no more.
We’ve heard enough of stuff before
The ever-flowing moments up til now.
And we shall burn the books, goodbye now, ciao.

And amid the flames the words shall scream,
When the darkness comes,
And the books shall speak no more,
Their comforting babble of words and writing,
Silent.