Doer Thinker

Soft and slow he gently turns
The final page of a leather-bound
Puts it down takes a deep breath
Watery old eyes tired and burning
Picks up a nylon-stringed guitar
Caress the smooth glossy spruce
Strums a chord without intention
Scribbles one liner comes up with another
Spaced out feels the string and finger picks
Sweet melodies warm and pleasing tones
Yearning to hear heavenly hymns ah choirs of angels sing along ah
Of intellect cog wheels still churning
More to read time's not a friend
What's he looking for in this pile of books
Arranges progressions out of desperation
Words of wonder are just that words
You're running in circles endless loops
In the same old ground you'll never find
In the graveyard lies a door to the other side



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