Reading habit.
reading habit is like another part of my soul
I have learned to live through reading
I live the lives what millions have lived before
I live the lives what multitudes will live again
lives that are loved, rejoiced, celebrated
lives that cherished every moment of living
lives that were meant to be lived
lives that will continue to live
despite all odds the lives we have been destined with
lives that will be ours even when we cease to be
lives that belonged even before we were born
for the lives when we lock in words become larger than the lives we live
larger than the palm of my hand at which I look for my own approval
life that I felt belonged to you and you said it was mine alone
another of those that went wasted blown and washed away
on the altar of endearing words that were spoken with no meaning in them
lives that enclosed those sweet nothings that are resting on my pillow
lives that once danced when we knew the music now faded
I read all the books lying by my bedside at an arm’s length
and I look longingly at those still lying in my shelf
for I am a proclaimed slave of reading habit!
…I am left dazed with bewilderment at your ways in earmarking the response one feels through his or her constant and continued experiencing of the myriad facets around…uuffff…
…that is an extreme rarity to think and write a romantic piece of verse upon the prose and verse itself…
…I have learned to live through reading I live the lives what millions have lived before…that is a fair emotion displaying that typical sentiment that as a matter of fact I always kept feeling… ‘I’ for that matter is anyone reading history, space, poetry or a prose…
…and we have a natural corollary to our reading…scripting all through and through and etching ‘…lives that will be ours even when we cease to be…’…like multitudes of ‘…lives that belonged even before we were born …’…and you would also feel Pritts that my amazement is not unfounded at all and this is sure to get even more profound even as I am able to do a snorkeling across the depths of your understanding …
…surely ‘…the lives when we lock in words become larger than the lives we live…’because they have become timeless in their own right and would outlive the narrator…’
…this is always ‘larger than the palm of my hand at which I look for my own approval’ and the ‘… life that I felt belonged to you and you said it was mine alone…’ that is a kind of personalized reliving that we are transported into through the reading and it sure does when I move through this ‘reading habit ‘…I feel as if I can read your mind …you have been very lucid … and in turn read my own because this is more of a representative narrative about one of our many ways…
…I feel I can go on and on… thnx for thses wonderful igniting of response Dearie….
Beautiful…….