A letter to the book
A light in the next room
Sent
The seventh hour has sounded.
Borrowed can be heard. What he held close has crossed the threshold. Hear it with the lights low.
Longing unmakes steady things. There is still warmth where the hand rested. He has left it there for you to find.
Beyond that room, a light remains. The eleventh hour has a name. Leave a Light On. It arrives on the second of October.
Mark its door. The book is told first.
Where the hours are listed, its first letters appear tomorrow. The rest will find their places by the eighteenth of September. You have been given the name to hold while they arrive.
Keep a light burning. He is still finding his way to the door.
