A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words — A Poem [ The books of memorials]

• What I see: a book covered in dust and cobwebs
• What I feel: I feel it' has probably been sitting there for long and could be a metaphor for things forgotten or abandoned.

          The Book of memorials

I am full of age,
I am the forsaken sage,
in sands of time past I bathe,
in an entanglement of deceit I'm caged,
I am wisdom forgotten

I am set in a coven,
the light of day is night,
my voice is in the shadows of a whisper.
I have been set apart,
but only to be dishonoured,
to be robbed of honour.

I am cultures written of,
faithful ways of living,
no longer spoken of,
traditional ways now legends and myths.

I am knowledge despised,
a guide thrown into abyss,
truth traded for a lie,
caught in a web of deceit.

I am pages of dreams abandoned,
greatness left unattended,
destiny despised,
caught in a web of challenges.

I am the ostracized,
treated with disdain,
hated for integrity's sake,
caught in a web of corruption.


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