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To Live Inside a Book

~An ode to where I’ve disappeared to lately~

Photo by Prateek Katyal on Unsplash

If I looked into the mirror, that unnerving solid frame,

Would the image talk back, like she’s done so many times before?

Would she knock me out cold, onto the streets of reality,

Aligning me with the dull, and mundane?




Could I pretend, just for today –

That the two pale moon pillars on which my head found it’s rest,

Be the bridge, the foundation, for a great work of art-

And it’s smell of fresh pine and ancient ruins,

Equally old and new,

Be the scent of my new home?

And If I cracked open the spine of my favorite book,

Unearthing untamed adventures, struggle, love and justice,

And believed wholly, dreamt wildly,

In the never ending night,

Unawakened by daylight –

No, but merely forgotten in the one I called my own,

As my mind wanders realms,

Could I live here?

In this dusty forever,

Amidst pages of comrades, revelry, hate and love?

Would a world open up and invite me into it’s bosom,

Would the characters I loved so deeply, know who I was?

And call me their own, when I read their last words, and resealed my tomb?

“No, I suppose not,” Her flat face tilted, a slight sadness in her eyes reflected off the glass.

But when a smile spread across my own, she mirrored it, and simply said, “So grab another.”

~And I do not wish to return from~


To Live Inside a Book was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

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