Left on the third shelf, a draft reads:

Introduction

Hate is a strong margin.
Perhaps another view,
could aid the reader well.

Chapter One

Leave it where it can breathe.
Not in the dark of forgetting,
nor behind the weight of someday,
pressed between bookend,
and flat against the wall.
Why bend it into proof of guilt?
Why turn its corners into regret?

Chapter Two

There is no shame in closing a book.
Only care in choosing
where and how you do,
so you may find it again
without fear of what it meant
when it was last hide away.
A book won't care
if you enjoy the story,
or even take the time to read.
It only waits for willing eyes.

Chapter Three

To consider the reflection,
insights into the rare,
special procurement
of the obscure, be curious,
as what is in the blood
is not a curse at all.
Merely a taste
for the particulars.
Even the ones with shadows.
Some stories prefer quieter rooms,
and some span out, locked away,
on a sunny day.

Conclusion

If one is fond of the creeping pull
from the second shelf, remember:

Dust eats all things precious.

And any unread masterpiece
is considered a tragedy.


Penned by my hand on the 14th of Phaestian, in the year 1002 AF.