Words, thoughts, ideas, philosophy,
eternal reverberations in the air
from the mind, the tongues,
the Aristotles, the thinkers,
the philosophers, the theologians,
are there for us to find and keep.
A place reserved for all,
our own private lyceum,
hidden but there,
our own treasure chest that records
all accumulated knowledge,
everything that we are today,
the knowing element
that hides in our secret depths,
our innermost soul, subconsiousness,
waits for us to summon it.
The words then take form
and rise to the surface
and remind us that we are
more than we think we are;
that we have our own
private lyceum that lives inside.