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Hardly do I think of myself, of who I am. However, at this point am not only obliged to look at the mirror, the truthful picture of me as painted by the eyes of others with whom i interact but also to rake deep within for my person.
I from page to page read, marvelling at the works of writers past ; Those individuals-like savants imbued with a fountain vast, Adorned with patience and crowned with an intellect so rare. Oh my ! the words from the pages jump, alive, thus to my incredulous stare Responding, which despite myself betrays my charmed amazement. Truly, these words, which the centuries have embellished, encased by life, And written by sublime architects, who before me on this firmament Walked; at a time dark, heightened by thoughts obscure; the very essence of strife. O! These words, like dens, hide dutifully this life's know-how; everything And nothing in particular. Alas, in my mind's ears reverberates their unanimous echo: "Learn to write, listen to talk...oh man's kindred-of a century in technology breathing; Into the prison of oblivion thus discarding the ennobled precept, words,- like the gecko In the sun-bathed mornings, bask in this dawn of old, where, in the fragrance of words People tanned; chewing into the facial expressions as though they be apples, Gesticulating, nodding, all the while from the sun by the maple's Branches shadowed. Live thus, by words,with words." Oh words! Insubstantial yet eternal, harmless yet mighty; solicitors of animal-like rage, Intimate, brutal. Indeed, many a family into the dale of ruin have succumbed, torn By a wordless world; in which night time, torrid as it is, is a cherished refuge , A hideaway for these resigned stowaways. Oh how the coming of dawn they scorn ! Once, in my younger days gone, my inopportune plays to one such family Did take me, whence, from the recesses of the still dark hut, I heard one shrilly Voice : "Into this new day forth I go, waiting to in the skies again see the stars." Then, the beauty of these words hypnotized for the whole day my curious soul, Unconcerned and unaware of the meaning therein hidden; the nocturnal vigil. Words. Oh this product of evolution, spice of revolutions, catalyst of wars !