The Reader Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The reader

Wonder why we differ
When talking of brain.

Scientists talk of shapes,
They show parts, divisions,
Give them name, explain.

On its wing, I fly, travel,
Us my thoughts, in heavens,
Pass the Mars, Jupiter.

They assign duties
And I love my dreams.

They call it lab, HD,
Or cloud, for saving.

They tell me we store
The knowledge and feelings.

They make me think of brain
As sort of library, dictionary.

Dumbfounded, I ask them:
"If lab keeps the secrets,
Can hackers be readers? "

Do not like their reply:
"We die and all is gone."

I follow old timers,
They call it: "Spirit."

Such belief stands firm:
"Each and all the people
Have the feelings, secrets,
To which is sole owner."

We think of Spirit's
Permanence, its living
After leaves corpse, body.