WHY A BOOK???!!!

Allot wonder
Why a book
Why bury my self within it's words
While others are available to embrace

I search for words
I find none
I feel a need to explain my self
But hold it back
For I was never good
When it came to speeches

And so I sat to write it down...

Years spent
Complaining
For I felt incomplete
Slowly I used to retreat
To the shadows of my being
Where I used to cry my self to sleep

Some how it struck me
From the depth I was wrenched

Those books I read
Some how quench my thrust
Unconditionally oblige to my needs
Don't have to ask
But Simply gives

I sail away
Thru it's words
As Ralph Waldo said:
The sentiment they instill
Are of more value then any thought they may contain.

A rush of fulfillment
Never disappointment

Thru them I live a life
Not theirs
But mine