To not merely read but to relish.    
Igniting the parts of yourself you are yet ignorant to.     
Painting pictures of things both nostalgic and new.    
For revelry, respite, and gaining answers to questions not yet contemplated.    
To build bounds between bearings , and forage and find.   
There are stories and rhymes that transcend both location and time.    
The triumph of the true, of things that are, and are not, and may yet be.    
To feast until frenzy, until the words that have been your sustenance,   
tumble out of you reaching forth to feed others.    
Like a tree's shade providing shelter for saplings to grow.    
To urge others find joy in just the written word, and to share their own.     
Sharing pure feeling. Searing into the soul what mere text cannot convey.    
Won't you read, and write, and play?