Reading My Books
As I read to the end of this book,
though it takes decades or days,
I’ve become ever more aware
that it unfolds in different ways
than times I’ve read it before.
Then I smile when I look upon
all those books upon my shelves.
They hold such different stories,
my other selves and their histories.
I can read tales of drudgeries and glories,
ecstasies and miseries, tragedies and follies.
There’s so many tales both old and new-
quiet, peaceful lives, lives of bold adventures,
tales of shared or unrequited love,
and so much more in peace and war
that I have often read before.
Beyond my sight sit books of wonder
I sometimes sense and feel-
new visions of life to read and write,
new lives to read, reread, cowrite,
new dreams and desires to make real
in changeable circumstances, conditions,
contextual fields, dualities, realities,
all Spirit’s creative inventions.
I read my books and smile…
July 16, 2021
Shelley Wilson
Flowerpoet 