Understanding life

Books full of knowledge
Books full of stuff
Do we ever feel
Like we ever know enough
We fill up our heads
We fill up our hearts
But still we struggle
To understand the arts
Of life...
Does reading make us smarter?
Does it fill up that emptiness?
Does it make us understand?
Or do we then comprehend less?
How can we know another?
Until we walk some miles?
In the shoes of our brother
And finally see through his eyes...