When the eyes saunter past each line,
The frame begins to paint my mind.

With every bit of knowledge my brain is fed,
I grow wiser of what's alive and what's dead.

With each book I read, I add every tale
To an infinite-capacity weighing scale.

Each tale pulls weight on the spectrum,
Bearing their own different conundrum.

Each story at times tip the scale left or right,
Or even set the scale as still as silent night.

Sometimes I wonder if all this reading,
All this adding, never-ending, has meaning.

I think that moving from book to book,
We approach the new with the previous look.

With every book that we add to our souls,
Comes a new colour, a new world, new goals.