Thumb to the world

Shallow world, hollow in its views
Regarding its heart, the poetic brew
No coin to send, to fill our bellies full
Seen through the eyes of few, the truth in motion
Expressing thousands of words to frame
Capturing the creative venture of a persons might
Rebirthing to each era, that sees their plight
To a lone person, it prose ones time
Written with forests, or just in air
Hidden in stare, lies all human life
Teaching those who’s passion is their blood,
Even if waned, dormant soul,
To forbear little is to lack whole
Its not a hobby, it’s a constant thought
Broken down in verses and titles
To be read by all that can tell the meaning of ones expression
Shading its power to those who are not ready to ignite
The world is covered, literary means do not suit
But like a struggle, it gives the restrained greater meaning
To all others, I bite my thumb at you, old English pose