Suppose your mind is like a sponge
A little gray repository
That soaks up wondrous things you learn
Your insights and discoveries
What happens if you never wring it out?
But hoarding knowledge, keep
Adding thought to thought to thought to fill
The mind's cavernous watery deep
If never squeezed or emptied out
On life's seeds, others' thirsts
Stale knowledge rank and rancid grows
Though sweet it was at first
Moldy sponges we throw out
For ones more fresh or new
Or sterilize them in the microwave
In scarcely a minute or two
But what use can one find
For a moldy mind?
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