With bended knees
Along those forbidden trees
I am stunned by all this fresh smell
It must be a bakery, a garden, a wheat valley or a poetry mortuary upon a spell
Along these deep sounds of science (I see)
I breathe upon the tears and the raw gush of all this silence
It must be a day for all the lost moonlights,
A magic show or a sparkling breeze upon this cold twilight
In my poetry still, I walk around and speculate
In this walk to the library, I think of the old secrecy and calculate
Words that I could write
Words of beauty so true, they can unite
All men under this garment of stones and all these shadows true and bright
I see bright doors and golden gates
The sweet rivers of old lies and the faithfulness of all the Virgins
And through these soft images and faint margins
I change all spells, into seeds of thought for my only walk to the library
Bound by my own imagination and unseen realms
I gasp and walk slowly towards a common position
To this library I wrote, this silence I saw and to this dead belief
I have found the taste of all this poetry in motion
The waves of change, catching the awake of all my dreams
In your poetry I have learned how to find all the missing links
I guess it is truly,
The only reason why God allows me: to freely read, write and think
To Diana Van Den Berg,16 February 2009.
Sicelo Sithole
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-walk-to-the-library/
