Inert Shapes

There's a young indebted scholar
Veggin' in his dorms
Couldn't see his not too distant self
Filling out dole forms.

So he grabs a pad, wields a pen like a knife
Begins to ponder the meaning
of this thing we call Life
The answers of this ultimately pointless plight.

But the strain on his brain
Sends him insane
He screams, He shouts
He blacks out.

Hours later
Confused and shaken
He lifts his head to find
His brain's leaked out on the paper.

Upon the page it's not
Blood and gore he see's before him
But a large black stain
That starts, lucidly morphing
Twisting and contorting.

The black swell ruptures
And right before his eyes
It births tiny shapes and symbols
That arrange themselves into lines.

A divine
Moment of clarity reveals it's self
As the hieroglyphs align
They shine
And become something else.

Knowledge and comprehension
A vision of meaning
Source of raw emotion
Communication of feeling.

They are His words
Through which the essence of his soul
Is transferred
As you read them, now
In your brain
His voice can be heard.

And as you speak them
He'll forever remain
Alive on this Earth.

So he decides to live his life
Before he is dead
Learn to harness the dark matter
That's inside his head.

He'll keep writing tiny immortal portals,
He's learnt a rule to this life long game
The right string of inert shapes
Is a window into the brain.