Burning Books

 

We light a wretched funeral pyre

And you lend sorrow to the dank, endless mire

While I draw courage from the darting fire

We solemnly tremble as our resolve expires.

 

We took every book that we could find

Without regard for order, no sequence in mind.

We piled them like bodies, we were not kind

And we left the words of our past behind.

 

But even as those tomes upon dusty tomes burned

And even as those broiling, black flames churned

I felt a stab of unease, my queasy stomach turned

As did I, so did you, and from the grave we adjourned;

 

Leaving broken fingers to etch in embers

A solitary warning: to never remember.

The End

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