Rare Proverbs

He who created unique proverbs and lore,
Words, rare and witty, never spoken before.

He brought about proof, the best from his pen,
Not all that ride, are considered horsemen.

Flames from the older wicks, last in the urn,
The higher they rise, the more they can burn.

As in all gatherings, virtues are nigh,
Yet I, with my thoughts, have aimed so high.

The words I utter, their burden I made,
How all the sun's rays dimmed in my shade.

My thoughts turned to fields of greenery and bush,
To vast meadows and groves, ever so lush.

They drank from a spring, with water serene,
Surrounded with grass and a plethora of green.

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