Minds sit in old bookshelves,
dead, alive, and dead again;
for once, in times past,
a mind and hands came
to play with words
and juggle thoughts
and create a book that
lived vitally for a while
and was read and made
alive in another mind.
But now it sits alone in a
bookshop for dead books,
hidden by other books
and by the dust and ashes,
that the years have wrought,
quite forgotten like
the deceased writer
who formed it words
and penned its thoughts
with passion years before.
Until one day, a young
and keen reader,
fossicking through the dust
and the other dead books,
finds this old book,
yellowed and aged,
once buried like a mummy,
and takes it away
and reads it afresh,
and therein discovers
the mind dead is still living
in a new narrative of being,
a newly born reincarnation.
29/12/2016