The knowledge of my wisdom is near

My pride, looking toward nature’s

Hands, holding on to thoughtless lies,

The water is as if the sea beckons your

Call, that the leaves of the sapling blows

Gently by, as the knowledge of time

And places spill down, upon the

Sheltered pool of wisdom, it’s seen

And felt throughout the century

Past as if it should be broken into

Pieces of times gone last, as it pours

Out of open doors and splashes on

Windows near broken walls, as it drips

And drips toward the pool of wisdom,

I open the windows of my mind to carry

Forth a new idea, of a thought and hold,

On to knowledge gone by.