Words etched in time,
fade even as I gaze at them,
wondering who wrote them?
when were they written?
who were they written for?
and that final question that
even History cannot answer;
were the words ever read
by anyone before me?
or am I the first reader
and maybe the last?
shall I keep this manuscript’s secrets safe?
or should i betray them?
There is more to the inquisitveness of the reader of the manuscripts than meets the eyes.Therein lies the beauty of the poem.
A deft’ poetic’ handling of a ‘mystery-related’ conundrum.