Knowledge: Poetry

No one told me
there are whispers
in the lacy print of words,
secret voices
wrapped in silk
that can reinvent the mind
into velvet sands
pouring into waves
of solitary thought

No one shouted to me
that there are warnings
etched inside volumes
all but overlooked
except by the
discerning gaze

Once looked upon,
it can crumble 

the foundations of an individual
as they question existence

in accusation of all
one does not know

No one stopped me
from this learning,
the words that history
forgot to erase,
etched by fingers
as human as my own

And how could I return

to what I was,
now wrapped in silken knowledge
and touched by sheerest lace
when I could not
see the world the same

It had been altered
beyond my most fanciful dreams
or decadent nightmares

For the words,
with all their beauty,
These words,
with all their stains
were now both my
liberation and my prison

if this shall be
my sentence
and solemn cause,
I choose to read
unto infinity
until the questing mind
merges into One.

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