scratching my inscriptions on the dark dungeon walls

The Thinker

“All knowledge…my province” –
but the land I survey
with my limited noggin
is fallow and gray.
The invisible regions
I plot on a graph,
with millions of reasons
only good for a laugh.
I’m such a deep thinker,
but that’s not worth a thing.
I know all about winter,
but nothing of spring.
Are there lands outside my wall?
If I listen, will they call?

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