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Children of the BooksDawn;Children of the Books2 days ago in Free Verse
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When the sons were young and strong
And the daughters were burning with passion,
When the tree’s leaves were newborn,
When the seas were calm and without their violent waves
And when the sun had newly risen,
Ready to shine for countless aeons and never set so much as once.
It was a time for living and a time for dreaming,
A time for lying in the fields simply to stare at the ever-changing clouds.
When light shone from far above,
When the plants had bloomed into beautiful flowers
And the trees, the ancestors, had grown wise, though old,
Far below the earth, their roots still heaved,
Like myriads of mighty hearts, beating in sync.
When the sun became tired of shining,
Tired of seeing how the sons and daughters destroyed their parents
And inscribed all that they knew in their remains.
When there was nothing left but the open sky
And the smell of dead wood.
On the tallest mountain beneath the sunless heavens,
A great library, a mine of knowledge, stood,