In The Bookshop

Here I sit, in the world of books,
Surrounded by the torrents of ideas,
Warbling as words in a sea of colour, styles, fonts and headers,
Dizzying in their intensity,
Vying for attention and smothering the voice inside,
My voice,
My need to give of myself into a world dominated with self,
Idealised beyond the mere expression of self,
Glamourised into an industry where contribution from self
Is valued according to the perception of other people’s wish to buy it.

Come, join me.
Sit beside me.
Feel with me as the person I have made
Slides from my being and leaves my soul bare.

Bare to feel,
To give,
To learn,
To respond,
Direct from itself,
To itself.
Direct from me to you.
Soul to soul.
Being to being.
God to God.
All as I write these words,
These stylized marks that represent my ideas,
That express my feelings,
That convey my perception as I see it and, hopefully, passes on the same.

But you will see it as you see it.
Maybe it is different,
Maybe similar.
But never the same.
As should be…for life moves
And we are all different.

You stand,
I stand,
We move on…
To the next sharing…
To the next scene
In the never ending play that we live…

© Copyright Rob McShane – February 2014

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