The Library of Found Souls

I

We all know that death comes for us all
One day we all get a ticket
To the great gig in the sky
But what we don't know is
What happens to our souls when we die
Where do they go?
Some say Heaven, others claim Hell
And still other exclaim Purgatory
I say they become books and go to a library

II

Think for a moment
What if there was a library
Inside which the books were stories about souls
Souls of people who had left their bodies
Somewhere in the sands of time?

III

You could rent a book out
That was the soul of a family member
You never knew
Or read about other souls and walk a mile in their shoes
Oh! What perspective it would give to you

IV

But what entity would be the librarian?
She would perhaps be someone kind but strict
"No tearing or manhandling!", she would say
While handing you the chosen book
"You are expected to return it in two weeks"
And off you'd go with another book to read

V

And now where is this library to be?
Is it imaginary?
Perhaps
Or perhaps it's disguised as a laundromat
We need books because they cry out to be read
We need libraries to forget regret
And I firmly believe
That in each book
Is a fragment of someone's soul
And reading is the conduit through which we get to know them well
The library is made of tales you hear and your absorption of them
It's open to all, 24 hours a day
It's waiting with arms open
Come inside, won't you?

The Bilge Master