There is a library that hangs high in the clouds, concealed by moonlight
Feels like you are in a realm of ethereal dreams
It has beautiful bay windows to look into the cloud bank
No direction here or there
As if the library were a ship caught at sea
There is no visible entrance nor exit in sight to the library
Its' shelves go on and on, home to many names
To stories and knowledge that will never fully be absorbed
It simply is that if you wish to be here, you will
To where you can access all the answers you seek
It's here that I meet you, and you've seen it too in your dreams
You wonder why being here feels so real
Even though you don't believe in such things, even if the reason for our meetings make no sense
Your pineal gland opens beyond your ego
You try to find me now as you always do
You ask why I won't commit to you
My hair hides my face, I prance away, always a step out of your reach
I will not entertain your loneliness
The air is completely silent
Dust settles on the book shelves - the answers to everything and nothing, all at the same time
YOU ARE READING
The Last Mermaid
PoetryEver had a dream you confused with life? Ever feel yourself slipping away into the waves? Ever feel that you've just gathered wings to fly away from this mess? Well... you have. You may be one of the last mermaids. Part anthology, part diary of grie...
