Words that we read tumble in a chain,
down our throats and out our ears
They circle us like hungry vultures in the sky
and ask us silly questions like when and why.
Our actions become instincts
Our minds go numb
We sit and stare at the flames,
but have only ourselves to blame.
The black moths wither and fold under the heat
The stench of kerosene so familiar as perfume,
As sentences melt and pages crumble away,
regret comes knocking on our door the next day.
The sight of a sacred bundle bound together to explore a new world
Leads to a hasty toss
into the incinerator, far from our eyes
For we have been fooled that books are lies.
Into the unforgiving fire gone forever is knowledge
With it, our purpose to life is lost
And so are we.