where has that childish abandon flown

to what corner has it tucked itself

within whose arrogant ignorance

mighty walls erected and

fell beneath the pen

faceless omnipotence

god of fact

fiction whose word scarred

paper hearts bleeding

ink upon the page

in whose eye every image was wonder

not closed to mysteries

ears closed to questions

the mind believes

it knows

dust upon the cover

inkwell run dry

scent of old pages