Poem- My Knowledge

My pen is the sword,

My ink is the stroke that kills .

The paper is the shield,

The shield to myself.

The words and stories to possess,

I offer my mind as their home,

The questions that swirl deep in the mind, 

I offer to find the answers through my eyes.

To yield my thirst for knowledge is shame,

To yield myself into knowledge is gain.

The sound of the chalk against the board,

One is at home.

The smell of the chalk particles particle wafting through the air,

One is calm and collected.

Some may call it madness,

Some may call it obsession,
I call it love for knowledge,
I call it love writing.

The ones who hate writing,
They shall never know the beauty of a pen ,
The roundness of the tip,
How the ink pours from the nib.
The ones who hate reading,
You shall never know the beauty of the words,
How the printed words feel under your skin,
The familiarity of the smell of the pages.