In the library of eternity
The walls have lost their shine
The vines crawl, the moss thrives
Venture alone through halls of divinity
Follow the guidance of a golden twine
It leads you to a door, a passage to your life’s archives
With a journal of old with origin ancient
You enter your past through a soothing chant
In this book a sea of memories sealed
With just a drop this goblet of mine is filled
Mere illusion devoid of progression
For this ink contains no compassion
Its whole purpose stops before a period
Turn the page and throw its existence to oblivion
And though the tale goes on
And though the pages keep turning forever
And although this part is so old
The only thing left is but its true endeavor
Few lines hold no glory
Only words aby for the lost time
A shattered malachite intrigues the reader’s eye
Finds its way deep in a fractured soul
Like tiger-eye, like the leaves of an autumn tree
Eaten by the jaws of time, a faintest memory
Guarded by graphite, now mashed and dissolved
This tale will remain forever untold
And though it’s wrapped by indurated crust
Still made of fragile, lightly torn sheets
And throughout ages it turns into dust
From its remains only one ruby stone beats
And when you lay a glance with eyes of sapphire
Upon these runes, inlayed in fire
But a mildest spark will ignite the flame
And as the pages burn, only ashes remember my name
But in summary
Of the front page
Not a trace...of a tragedy
Dissolved by the age
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