Saturday, 9 January 2010


You never talk these days of what you read
Unlike the crowd outside;
Their lips move
And mouth the sounds
Without ever knowing why.

Your fingers brush words across the page,
And retread the chapters close,
Whilst finding forms
For unknown letters,
And knowledge there bestowed.

Your eyes move as though you’re dreaming,
And your feet tap out a tune,
Though I’m never sure
Of its destination
As you always stop too soon.

You have protected your arrangements,
And amended them with care;
You’ve carried them
All through our years
And made ignorance aware.

As book burned people congregate
Outside your porch all day,
You settle back,
Dust cover down,
And continue on your way.

If you can learn more than the crowd,
Then learn more you will do,
Then when time comes
To engage them
Your words will not fail you.

But come on now baby put it down,
Theory time has passed,
You don’t need to address
Me correctly,
You’re no pupil in my class.

Place your long coat around yourself,
Buttoned to the top;
Forget other clothes,
It’s not too cold,
This shawl will be enough.

We’ll walk away over the bridge,
Well into the old town,
The things we’ve learnt
Are of utmost value now.

And the hoards they will not follow us,
They’ll stay within their clan;
They’re constantly
Evolving into man.

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