It doesn’t come from an amazing thought
One that wakes up your mind and conjures wisdom…
A stack of books could do, of people you admire
And hope to be better than
You see their works neatly tucked in the stack
You are charged by the a dying flame
Yet full of awakening smoke
You hope they would come alive
When you fan the embers
There is a will to break even
To find your books neatly tucked, too
And people hover around like bees in a honey comb
Inspiration…
There could be more buried in the array and the many things that your eyes have seen.
