Getting lost in other’s stories, lives and words
is a form of devotion,
To the old gods that weaved threads of meaning in language and song.
I can sit for hours and cry, laugh and feel the blood thread connecting me to

We are more than readers and lovers of books-
We are dancers on the edges of universes,
Collapsing and being reborn on each page.

I can get lost
As within ritual;
Crumple in the simplicity of black on white-
Become another, for a heartbeat
While the world drags on
Around me.


Copyright 2014 Nightshade author of The Purple Broom

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