I

Into the abyss of salt, I stare

Wondering what lies beyond

Not a single care

About the soil I stand on

Numbers and symbols everywhere I look

Not a single truth presents itself

Except the truth of fear that shook

The last book off the shelf

The last book contains a secret

The gold a-waits to thee

He who sees it keeps it

If he wishes to be set free

In the end, there are still blank spaces

More room for beautiful ink

His fingers continue the races

With no longer a need to think