Following his thoughts through the sinewy sap that was his mind’s eye,
As penurious whispers whispered,
“Shut the whole thing down”.
Short-sighted they said,
Unseen truths he sighted,
On the sunrise horizon of literary bliss.
Horizons of thought unleashed,
Springing forth in fountainous glory,
Release, release, release.
Sinewy sap of thought turns sweet,
Flows like warm syrup,
Melting like butter the sad thoughts of the day.
Walking through aisles of a bookstore,
Aisles of possibility,
Thirsts for knowledge seeking to be quenched.
Awakened hunger causing soul to salivate,
A craving deep,
A craving sound.
Hear that? Listen.
Sound of the soul whispers,
Guiding one to the words that enliven
And awaken a soul that listens.