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So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

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Zanzibar's Reading Room

My Study
by: Zanzibar

In my warm study there is a busy ticking
With earnest focused industry my pen is stead’ly flicking

At once outside a spirit’s fury rises; and blowing branches bare
It pulls with trembling wrath its fingers through the willow’s tumbling hair.
It is not ceasing! Violence, there still it blows!
A blackbird strains with northward purpose, but southward still it goes.
Like a gaggle of frenzied coyote pups it begins to yip and howls...
I look to the wall for friendly clock but back at me it scowls.

And then the storm is gone again, the wheezing willow falls flat
The returning sun slinks through my window like a lazy summer cat.
Before me lies my lifeless sheaths so long on which I’ve toiled
Still in my forgotten hand my heavy pen is coiled
Is freedom here inside my books? and in notes with care and gravity lettered?
No! I wish to escape by yonder window there and run through life unfettered.

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