The open gates of book
and verse and speech and glance
invite us just inside to chase
the butterflies of thought
that light upon our ignorance;
to gaze upon soft vistas,
pearl-covered with the dew
of age-old wisdom nourishing
the frail hypothesis, the struggling
seeds of something new.
We are free to wander
each new-found path that winds;
to crush the weeds of prejudice
and pluck the buds of truth
from the magic gardens of our minds.
© Marion Sharville
