One Binder

These bound binders bind me.

Bit bothered by the binding,

Tried stacking, blue binders

Of black and white blind data.

Their covers carry crud,

The contents are rarely read,

My colleagues collect them too:

“Not knowing when you’ll need it.”

Shove-shelved in a corner,

A slim slab of shelf marble,

The sill against plate glass,

Unbalanced from the binders.

It’s all on the Net now,

From building dams to Bibles,

Yet I keep these damn binders

As if I’ll some day read them.

What happens in the end

To these binders full of words?

Would I simply read them 

Once - retain it to the end.

But here I am blank-bound,

Both binder and bound: to dust.

Dusting of my neurons,

The fate of living matter.

My memory might perish

But soul survives the binder.

Heaven-bound now, I’ll bet

Forever-bound, One Binder!

Gary Edward Geraci