FOOD FOR THOUGHT

My life is a library of empty books

Stacked on shelves of uncertainty

Each book draws written images of a part of me

And each day scripts itself on pages with permanent ink

And sometimes I ask myself

If I am being read out

Will I receive nominations for Nobel Prizes?

Or will I be relegated to the duty of tissue paper

Will they read me and ponder

Or will they lament for time wasted

What will be of my review?

And how far will my sales go

My life is a pulpit

And how I live it, is the sermon