Predisposition

I am engulfed by the
fixating, youthful glow of
curiosity.
The desire for knowledge has
seared a hole in my principles.

Books feed my psyche with worlds
I cannot touch,
I know now a curiosity not
satiated by words,
my love for the world fed by
a predisposition to understand.

With each step I take into the
vast field of human experience,
the more inwards I look for
answers.
I don’t want to hear the spoken
word,
I want to feel it.

I want to chain each of my
passions to a rock, and throw
them to the depths of the
ocean. Maybe then, I would
finally know
which ones are truly worth
chasing.

I find roads full of forgotten
leaves scattered against the
black asphalt like broken glass.
Feathers grazing branches of
trees long forgotten, those light
weight swords wait patiently
for the wind to pick up,
and return them to flight
once more.

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