Pageworn Poem by Christian Thomas Scott

Faintest whispers dance upon the page,
In swirling dust of words from abject age,
Drawn from murky silhouettes of calm,
And mysteries of emotion and alarm.
But dry and brittle concepts flake away,
And never settle, never feel the day,
But cool and crisp, the wet and moonlit air
Rejuvenates the soul and darkness there.
Yet in between the daylight and the dark,
The dusk and dawn inevitably mark
The eye and heart with images to find,
And each emotion brings the light to mind.