Hope to not become an intellect of the mind but of the heart.

When the wind blows from ethereal distance and into your ear, hear not explanations or reason but stories of love and loss, tales of tears and sorrow, songs of joy and prosperity.

Step on shores of color and let waves of expression trickle through your toes, think not of why and how the water does this but of why and how the cold and salty blue ocean soaks you to your bones and instills in you a sort of brisk passion for the corners of the spherical world, the colors of the night and the shadows of the sun, a frigid fervor for the language of nature.

When the rays of inspiration shine they shine through you into you, illuminate the ghosts of your mind that you didn't know existed, and your eyes shine light outward, a mirror of the light shining inward but you see not the light of artificial science and technology but the light from within you that is divine in a way the world will never be, enlighten the lost minds of reason with the luminosity of a poor mind grown rich.

Those of the most intelligent brains seldom feel envy, but upon seeing your wealth of honest intellect, your extent of understanding, your flooding sea of emotion, they will finally comprehend the true meaning of "learn".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10/21/14 10:44

Author's Note:
I may have been too influenced
by reading Romantic-period writing in school.