I followed a light through
A dark, night forest
To a fire where an eerie blaze
Burned with intriguing colors,
First one, and then another,
As if a page had turned.

And as I gazed
Deeply into the flame
And meditated on it,
I began to see
The ancient libraries burning there--
Alexandria, Sarajevo,
And even scrolls from Tibetan caves.

And so I stood and cried beside the fire,
Until its song called to me,
The way a child leans A, B, C's,
And it moved me to walk into
The gnostic bonfire,
To feel the forgotten knowledge
Burn inside of me.

"Is this how Giordano Bruni felt?"
I ask myself as I wonder
Why we burn our books
And our geniuses?

-jenn