Leonardo wrote the ultimate book…
Or so some people say. They know he drew
And doodled quite a bit. With backward script
He pondered nature’s mysteries in great
Detail, his secrecy inspired by thieves
And spies in the employ of rival kings.
Or so they say. I wonder if it’s true.
Perhaps the great inventor really wanted
An understanding of a senseless world
Where bastard children had no rights at all
And only his great curiosity
Could save him from the common man’s despair.
Perhaps his journal represented life
To him in ways he thought no other man
Could hope to understand; therefore he wrote
Those hopeful pages to himself… and hoped
Against all hope that other souls would find
His cryptic notes and understand his findings….
And learn that human spirits rise above
The world around them and become much more
Than helpless cogs trapped in some great machine
If they will but devote themselves to living…
A king might sell his soul for that, indeed.
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