Books Are Immortal Poem by Ravi Panamanna

Words are immortal. Man's consciousness is the living light.
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As the waves of the sea
Books lead an immortal life.
Thro' the heart and hands of generations
They reach unknown shores and shelves.

And in those dark, dusty corners
They lead a silent, quiet life.
Their pages are worn out and torn
But the seeds are genuine and strong.

And in the appropriate winds and waters
They spring to life once again.
Voices art heard across the times
And the author or poet leaves his grave!

The reader slowly turns his head;
Casts his eyes across the old corridors.
The heart is feeling for a spring
The streams are searching their source.

Words are voices of the heart
They are the light of our consciousness.
The tides of time may swallow a book
But never buries her- man's quest is eternal.