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What Are The Prerequisites Of Self Education
I burn the midnight air with questions,
Thin syllables crack like bones in the dark.
No teacher waits behind the door—
Only the echo of my own demand.
A hunger sharper than teeth,
A solitude that bruises the ribs,
The patience to swallow dust and ashes,
To peel silence back until it bleeds.
Books are stone fruits, bitter in the mouth,
I crush them with my tongue until they sweeten.
The mirror is merciless,
It asks me what I deserve to know.
Discipline is a blade I must learn to wield,
Loneliness a candle flickering on my desk.
I must dismantle myself to read myself,
Construct a cathedral of fragments.
Knowledge is marrow—devoured or lost.
Copyright ©
James Mclain
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