Pyre of Pages

Phuket, Thailand, 2014.

Phuket, Thailand, 2014.

 

I fell in love with you
from a time forgotten.
Once a week, we would meet,
I, ever voracious.

You had illuminated my world
with possibilities, secret worlds.
With you, I learned and began to see
magic in the commonly unseen.

I grew up surrendering to you
hours and weeks, alongside my heart.
And as I carried parts of you home,
along the way, in you I found home.

But to now go against
that that which makes you you
– with pages made pyre –
my incensed heart is torn.

Tell me, what does a book mean to you?
Is it not a creation of art
meant to inspire? Anything but
that which you allowed to transpire.

Tell me, what is a library if not
an impartial book repository?
Ought you play omniscient curator
while the pages painfully smoulder?

– Agnes Chew

Dort, wo man Bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man auch am Ende Menschen.

(Where they burn books, there they will eventually burn human beings also.)

– Heinrich Heine

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