The Journal

Bound by leather

Worn by age

My journal

Truly understands me

Its tattered pages creak

When I turn them

Too many rides

Of

Backpack adventures

And

Day to day travels!

My journal is the tool

That allows me to drift

Drift farther

And farther

From reality

Or

Into reality

It’s hard to say at this point?

Yes

I study the world around me

Like Sabrina Pasterski

Studies physics! 

I give all that I have

To make sense

Of

This world!

I have no PHD

No college degree

But what I do

Have is the drive

To understand

All that surrounds me!   

And I think

Sometimes

Are my thoughts

What others call hearing voices?

Do their dreams

Sound so foreign

So beyond

What they believe is obtainable

They do not hear

Dreams whispering in their mind?

Some truly seem

So programmed by the world

That surrounds them

That any differing

From the daily planer

Must be a sickness!

If you speak

And

Say what others

Are afraid to say

You are easily dismissed

Mocked for being different

Yet praised

If your writing becomes viable!

For now

Journal

You're safe

I won’t let them read you

I’ll keep you locked away

Far from their sight

Until you are needed

To awaken

The minds of the sleeping

Sleepwalking

Their way right through life

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave