Arguing With Dead Men In Books

‘Oh yes, but have you considered’
The pages having nothing to say
Their author has long gone away
Still we exercise our disagreement
Internally vocalise our discontent

These dead men in books
Gone to their final earthen nooks
Are silent
In life their minds may have been sharp
So knowledgeable as to be intellectually violent

But in death they answer in quiet
Whispers lower than sounds can spin words
There silence leads us on
Curiously seeking their response
In these musty pages brown with ages

These dead men and their books
Give nothing away
Merely reflecting the intention
With which we bring
Our eyes to look

If we see and don’t look
Maybe we’ll learn something
An open mind receptive
Giving these pages mental space again
To once more deliver their subject’s name

At any rate these dead men
Have nothing to say
Arguing is a waste when
You have come to learn such peace
Minds now happy from ego’s release

Their silent answers boom
Words and pages may have faded
But this peace is truly a beautiful bloom
May it be that we feel their reply
And Anger, arrogance, pesky logic deny

Not calling out why
Just finding a sunlight hill
On which to lie

David James Horn Β©

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