Book Bird Wrote
This book contains the solving of the paradox.
It was found with keys and locks in a stone chamber.
The lid took an age to remove.
The text is very fine, high. Not human written.
Its language is alien, translated into that of early Earth,
first civilisation speech.
Its scribe, perhaps humorously,
describes itself as a bird.
Its plan to fly away once its task is done.
Scholars would admire it for its poetry only.
Attempt to locate its author in some pre-Biblical time,
somewhere in what became Sumeria.
Its first words I quote:
Book bird wrote. Begin.
From land crane cry, from oceans whale song,
wind and silence else.
Creation seems simple till the mind attends to itself,
considers the rope riddle, craves its untanglement.
My word path the paradox will present and solve.
In a hut on stilts, above marsh reed and water, I write.
It goes on so, for many pages.
The book is silence made solid.
It disturbs, excites, like thunder,
more searing to the soul than inferno’s gate,
holds the fear of shoreless ocean,
when open, no secrets then.