The Book Wyrm

Come, my darling child;
Swim with me through an ocean
As deep as the pain of loss.
Or splash with me through puddles
Brimming with rainbows reflecting
Light and bright days of joy and summer.
Climb with me to dizzying heights
Where snow-capped peaks whisper about
Our very nature and what it means to be human
Or else run with me through bright and shiny
Meadows that fill your heart with laughter.
Brave with me the lair of the book wyrm,
Where treasure untold awaits.

A book is a friend.
Comforting us when we cry,
Exulting with us when we triumph.
It reaches down and lifts us up,
Reminding us of the power of imagination,
Teaching us about how to find ourselves
In the thoughts and rituals of others,
Uniting us across the barriers of
Language, culture, gender, and time itself.

A book is a tool.
When we read we are empowered
To learn and think and do things
We'd never understand on our own.
It is the whetstone that sharpens
The iron of our minds,
The fuel that powers our ability
To push the boundaries of our understanding,
The engine that drives us
In the quest for knowledge and growth.

A book is an indescribable feeling.
It can tend to broken hearts,
Strengthen the weak,
Take us on adventures and journeys
Beyond our wildest imaginings
Before bringing us back home
To tuck us under the covers
With a warm cup of tea and a gentle hug.

A book is a weapon.
It can topple tyrants and banish ignorance.
It can transform hearts and minds,
Allowing us to see with new eyes
The injustices and prejudices that lie
Buried deep within our own hearts.
A book is a knife,
Capable of cutting any direction it chooses,
Whose wielder is no safer than any other.

A book is nothing unless picked up and read.
All its power lies dormant until sparked
By the curious mind of the reader.
There are no warning labels,
No safety instructions,
No guarantees that you will come away unscathed.

Courage, dear heart;
Take up and read.