A Book, A Being

By Jacob Olian

The light gleamed across it.
It’s open arms
Inviting all to come near.
I could not decide
But in the end I took him up.
I made my way across the silent room
The darkness touching all
Except my bright host.
My stride reluctant
Because I knew he could close his great jaws
And bite.
Reaching his side of the room
I stood over him
Because he sat on a low table
Made just for him.
I stared at him
And he gazed back
Though he had no eyes.
I inquired further
And he told me many
Many things.
And yet he had no lips.
Knowledgeable
About so many things
While he had no mind.
And he inspired me
To write
Though he had no soul.