Books

Somehow inspired just by holding the sequel,
he who loves reading knows all he desires.
Stay rolling like tyres, overcome being tired,
fiction more substance than a life with no zeal.

They peer as you ponder your promise,
insisting opinions on piles of predicaments,
false figments outgrown with knowledge,
when we succeed they get sick of us.

It shines through my door and my being,
decided already like destiny dates them.
On my knees I glare at the ceiling,
Always trod turf with trepidation.
Deviation makes patients impatient,
patience exalts the tenacious.