fauxcroft

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.