A Church is a Book

The cogs of my mind and this life are always spinning;
forever
turning.
Respite I find, in stories.
Faces fade but these words will never die.
Before page 3
I’ll be dancing through rain
swaying on cliffs
ocean song in my ears.
Mysteries, they grip, when hands do not.
A peaceful escape.
Home.

There’s safety in this familiarity,
I’ll read these words
again and again.
Searching for something new.
Instead,
I see me.