"A Book" - A Poem

The following, is a poem I wrote (one of my favorites... and longest). I hope you all like it.

A Book
by Brian Mcbride

What is a book that we should be so lucky 
to lay our hands on something so rich?
Description being more than just “blue sky” or “green meadows”.
Etching elegantly painted pictures into our shallow minds.
The rich, deep, shimmering sky dotted with billows of white.
The oceans of waving, green meadows filling a landscape.
All painted in perfect harmony in our minds.

The cascading waterfalls thundering down a cliff.
The tall evergreens standing regally; 
the fathoms of pounding wind.
The foaming oceans battling an unseen force.
The rolling hills dotted with rainbows of flowers.

Words etched so perfectly on a piece of paper.
An artist, working effortlessly through hours of endless labor,
checking, down to the last fiber of the perfect story.

Books of old, books of new.
Books thick, books thin.
All tell the story of the one within.

Emotions flood our minds as we soak up the words. 
Happy, sad,
Hateful, mad,
Loving, serene,
All mixing in with our emotions and thoughts.

The characters, described so perfectly.
Flowing fiery red hair…
High cheekbones…
Pointed nose…
Giving us an image of those who are so engrained in our memory for all eternity.
Impressing upon us the will to belong to the stories we read.

The adventures…
The climaxes…
The resolutions…

Nothing is so rich as a book.
Telling us of other worlds where light reigns,
Where the meadows are untouched,
Where the doe grazes beneath the tree,
Where the buck leaps over rotting wooden fences.

A book is a doorway.
It guides us,
It shows us rights and wrongs,
It lives in us,
And it never leaves us.

A book is rich, deep.
Never shallow.
Unforgettable, Unending.
The countless stories, unfathomable.

Illusions of old,
Magic of new,
Hide within the pages of a book.

Stories never heard,
Folktales long forgotten,
Are rebirthed.

People who have passed,
Great, or small,
Are all remembered by a book.

Without it we have no knowledge,
No understanding of right or wrong,
No imagination,
No emotions,
No way to know how to describe the earth as more than simply
“blue sky” “spherical planet” or “green meadows”.
No longing.
Nothing. 
We would be empty, void of depth.
Shallow.

A book is a blessing given to us by the Creator,
Master of all,
Author of life and all that we see.
The potter of the trees, the sea, the hills, the valleys, the birds of the air,
The beasts of the field, the fish of the sea, the man, 
you and me.

Simple pages we turn every day,
But some don’t pay attention to the magic in
Each word.
Description, destiny, love, hope, fear, faraway places.
All lie in the pages…
…of a book. 

God bless,
Brian