“It overwhelms me.
The sheer simplicity of the words,
that I am not able to understand,
but the underlying complexity that I can just somehow feel,
as it comes apart,
strand by strand.
The rhythm that captures and entangles me,
that only intensifies with every line,
that the brain can only enjoy, lavishly,
like a fine dine for the mind.
The ink, as if capturing all rich darkness,
and the pages, all pure light,
I almost shiver at it’s touch,
and soften at it’s sight.
And the air that gains a distinct heaviness,
as the covers split apart,
like a divine humidity that settles on your shoulders,
and swims it’s way to the heart.
And then, gliding out the mouth,
back onto the pages once more.
Me having gained absolutely everything,
and it, losing nothing at all.”
Some books just really have that effect on you. Sometimes, even if I don’t feel like it (which is usually the case), I’ll just sit down for two minutes and read a tiny bit. The minutes stretch into hours and I don’t even have a clue. How do you feel when you read something precious to you? Maybe your own religious book, or a letter from a loved one? Let us know!