The sights in this city that we live in, this, is, a gem that this narrator had, found, translated…
The Streams of Continual Reading
Slowly, Branched out, in this City of Water
Every time the Sunlight Walked into the Streets
The Grasses in the School Campuses Swayed
The Sound of the Water, Breaking Through the Rocks
Made Me More Alert
I’d, Walked Down to the Cracks Downstairs
With the Words, Seeping Through
On the Way, the Posters Stacked onto Each Other
Like Those, Prehistoric Cave Drawings
With Every Step I Took
The Civilization, Took a Step Forward
The Consciousness Here, Melted by Erosion
Displayed onto the Shelves
The Knowledge, Dripped Themselves into Stones
The Blind Creatures
Started Procreating and Swimming All Over the Desks
The Sound of Recitation Chased on
The Bats that Missed the Chants
How Do You, Know the Boundaries of the World
As that Fearsome Humidity Attacks from All Around
This Town of Water is, Way too Dry
I’d, Dried Us all Up
The Crowd Moved Quickly from Up Above
The Echoes Barged into the Book Room
I’d Still, Kept My Head Lowered
My Gazes Grazed Across that Unsettled Night
As I’d, Searched, for the Source of Light
Like a Sleepwalker
And so, this, is how important books and reading is, to this narrator, s/he had, discovered this, special place underground, a bookshop, where s/he loved going to, because, it’s, a sort of an escape, from the noises of the outside world…