The Bookcase Brought You To Your Knees

I see your bookcase has brought you to your knees
Because there was too much beauty on its shelves
The dust settled on the sleeves is the book's disease
Trying to hide the story it has to tell

It has grown thicker with every passing year
Shipwrecked words are now beginning to sink
Beneath a sea of silt silent suffering
Now you finally catch a glimpse of the link

Just because the book has remained unused
It does not mean its beauty will diminish
Just because you’ve been hiding in the shadow
It does not mean that your story has finished

You will crawl from the shadows to your feet
Like you’re slowly evolving to upright man
Homo erectus with a precision grip
You will grip this pen as tight as you can

And write about how you tend to overthink
And how your idle mind is still in repair
Knowing that overthinking is natural though
When the alternative is silent despair

You wonder if you can still reset your mind
To how it was when you were unread and young
Dust yourself down and climb back onto the shelf
This time don’t leave your pages closed for so long