La Libra De Monteque and Leading Which Toward

Le Libro De Monteque And Leading Which toward

That which hopes that which dreams, a book so precious rarely never gleams.

Forged of leathered perfect Devine, ceases to exist of time.

He was the perfect of keepers, of things that never lived, but should.

Serendipity of paper, a spine whom had all as rhyme, a lie of good.

The ageless book of Monteque, which holds the faults of mine.

Its souls is of a sparrow, of the kindred hearts; singing the mellow tune of the meadowlark.

On, broken he of mine, my Monteque which line, die bright my brave of light.

One whom held my love; a feather saint as might, dov never fraid the fear of fright.

Float with the books, Le Monteque, leading which toward from fraint of might.