Thinker.

Photo by M.R unsplash.com/@wherearemyshoesdude

The journey of the spirit, towards freedom of thought, expressed in this poem, through the eyes of a tiny mouse. Only truly brave, can step over the boundaries that set to crumble any different ideas and thought.

Stop these questions, silly tail.

Grey fur,
Quick paws,
This mouse is similar to others,
But so much different as well.

It goes on raids together with a clan,
In constant search of food,
For colony back home.

This mouse takes a moment,
Sometimes few,
To look at stars,
Up in the sky.

What mysteries do hold,
Those sparkles,
Above the farm?

What creatures dwell beyond the farm?
What food they eat?

Thinker had many questions,
That no one could relieve.
They sparked suspicion,
And some worry,
From the elders of the clan.

Stop these questions, silly tail.

Said the elders to the thinker.
Our way of life is ancient,
Proven by the time,
Go to eat,
Then reproduce,
Enjoy the pleasures of the world!

Thinker cared not,
For words of elders of the clan.
Knowledge, exploration,
Moved his tiny spirit,
Further than the sun.

Banished in disgrace,
Expelled by his own kin.
Thinker made the journey,
Away from the big, old farm.

Thinker journeyed nowhere,
Surviving on the way.
At times,
Thinking with the sorrow,
Questioning the choice made.

One day,
Exploring forest filled with corn.
Thinker saw huge moving towers,
That reached up to the sky.
Shaking to its core,
Brave mouse approached the bottom of the mountain.

He remembered vaguely,
The days that followed his approach.
Those towers that he saw,
Were people,
Scholars of the science.

Thinker looked up at the ceiling,
Dotted in artificial stars,
Slowly closing tiny eyes,
With a simple smile,
Across the calmest face.

Process of thinking, brave person’s shield.

Please let me know what you think of the poem on Twitter @FischerVladimir

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