•What I see : a kind of cylinder or sth and beside it a stool with books on top.
•What i feel : books are like a cylinder of oxygen.
###Breathe in fresh air
Sitting on four legs,
even on a dusty shelf,
Is a lucid fore-lens,
A mirror to behold answers,
to the myriads of questions,
Pages of common sense,
A breath of fresh air.
Stored there in,
Stories, fictional or real,
geared towards one single thing;
Sifting through failures,
walking through success's corridors,
And arming your armoury.
Diving into the sea of thoughts therein,
Is as entering into a bank of ideas,
And as cylinder of oxygen in space,
It stimulates your faculties,
Running you through simulations,
without placing you through it's horrors.
Experience may be the best teacher;
But it doesn't have to be yours, any longer.
A gray-haired fellow,
Has serviced that gallow,
Hide your neck from it's noose,
Instead, bury your head loose,
in the tile of tales that line his books.
©DeUltimate
18-09-23