Writers weep and howl and pour out anguish in the form of words
Wanting to be seen and wanting others to be heard
Seek the neglected beauty in strange thoughts and hopes and faces
Fantastic worlds where power lurks in unexpected places
Where the wicked is the one who doesn’t see the witch,
While the open hearted hero is the one who will be rich
I want it all, the universe, contained between these pages
Where happiness belongs to those who have wept in other ages
Alone, I am surrounded by the ghosts who I invoked
A symphony of voices that in other times were choked
I am not worth of this message, this divine immanence
This way of saying damn the guards as I reach across the fence
Please take my hand, we haven’t long, I see their fires on the hill
If we don’t save these books from burning
Who will?
(Will Forrest, 2023)
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