I sit in my space reading my book,
alone but not alone, for the warmth of family
the warmth of home surrounds me.
I drink in each word as I sip on my tea,
drifting into different worlds,
different dimensions, ages and time.
I analyse everything so I understand,
the meaning of all things that it imparts to me.
Knowledge is the master when understood
and when freely sought.
But not when imposed or brainwashed into you.
Always I question all things I read,
no matter the greatness of the author
it has to apply to me and make sense in what it means.
As I read I then slip down in my chair,
slip down into sleep, with the book on my chest,
close to my heart, as the book fills my dreams.