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