Temple Of Thought Poem by Charles Eastland

Temple Of Thought



TEMPLE of THOUGHT
Augusta, Maine - Lithgow Library


On Lithgow's fortress walls are names
masters etched in Maine Granite
catch the winds and curious minds.
They will whisper to you slow dreamer
You there...healing alone on the bench
among the guardian birch la femme delight
delicate contrast to the stout granite walls
so lovely white and green in the sky blue

Franklin is there in the granite walls
his brilliant gravitas behind hooded frog eyes
that printer's devil who flirted with electric
elements of lightning and Parisian women

Here Longfellow, Homer, Whitman and Poe
and other mind's gleam in your eyes
your eyes that kindled this life
a script known some by chance
once in some childhood library in memory
ignited your mind moved feet on new paths
back, way back.…when youth craved heroes
strong as Maine stone.

Some bruised affair compelled your escape today
a getaway from the TV haze and hype
such a hunger in the teeth for substance
led you here
to this house of books...and here it is
something solid built for souls to souls
a feast for the mind of limitless travels
the price: No Charge…just donate your time
in this Augusta Library among your best friends
off you go now...without judgments
here is place to lean on in weak moments
and other days on vacation from our lives


And more!
This rugged fort gem like Maine itself
chiseled from granite roots and hauled
great distance on men's sweat
from Norridgewock for love of minds
and set by Mason's mystic tools
a solid architecture of a man's will
to offer vast knowledge of life…
Mr. Lithgow's gift
Opened to all who enter

Inside this temple of thought
material wealth is neutral
and all faiths are mysteries at home

readers thirsty heads bent flickering
over open pages of books screens and dreams

but who Stops to see the great wood columns
stoic and silent high above their heads?
great wood's own grained histories shined
and reaching to an atmosphere of antiquity.
such refined oak is competition
to marble's endurance.

In the back dimmer aisles..you…dreamer
hear the classics grumble
from their dull covered worlds
thick with strange lyric trails
beautiful and disturbing and alluring
from their dusty age of words
humanity's notes
of human ancestors complain,
and explain, in phantom choruses pitfalls
about being ignored and worse - misused.
How boldly their wisdom challenges
This new Hollywood imitating
script of the masses
Who owns the media owns the masses
They say, 'Crack open our bones!
Let history fall like fractures
and point like omens to the future
taste our blood, your blood in its younger age
find comfort here and recognize
our kindred cycles
of suffering and joy, and fools.'

...and when the chisel struck deep
behind the engraved famous names
struck and was stilled
at the granite core
it's earth heart sang out...


'I am your fortress
your temple of thought
...solid home and refuge
of our warrior defenders
who fight for all's
Freedom for our Thoughts
and our Rights to Speak them! '

CHARLES EASTLAND - Poet

(from the book, 'The Car Has Ears: Selected poems, '
by Charles Eastland
(Autumn 2016, Kindle eBook)

Friday, June 24, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: free mind
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