Books literature beauty

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Where do we see our true selves? In the reflection of a mirror  That often tells us lies. Or maybe in those around us, Those who support and care,
Literature Lit the fire under her. Starting her days Under early morning rays, She reads a quote, word, or poem, Now the world is hers to join. An expression of fear, inspiration, or will,
How is it everything lines up so perfectly? From the breeze of  the California air to the turning of the pages, The words of the brilliant Rupi Kaur, capturing the hurt that I've been trying to process all these years,
With your story you inspired me to open up my mind and fill it with ideas that have no limit With your pages you encourage me to dream of new worlds
On an Island that no one know  The seeds of sorrow a shipwreck sowed  To nip these off at the bud Let me tell you what I love The books of old would do just fine  To help me pass the spacious time 
Books are just dreams wrote down and shared with the world.
You have taken me to many places; Exotic lands I never would have dreamed. The places where the master still traces; Places where people danced and castles gleamed. Heroes wept when their families had died;
My old friend, my book What a beautiful thing Contained within its pages A gaitway to thinking
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