Monday, March 12, 2012

Philosophii, et al.

Man is but a leaf,
Floating on the ocean of time and space
Meaningless and alone in an absurd universe
Certain of himself only because of the echo of his thoughts
And the patterns of reason he so brilliantly discerns

If he is ever so clever.
He fancies himself an overmannish boy,
Unbound by the chains of his instinctual habits
His head skimming above the mundane smog of the everyday
Pulled up by the invisible hand of a objectively subjective god

Buried in a book.
By the light of day pacing
Endless lines along the campus way,
Unable to read a single word without expounding,
So moved by his own capability and intelligence as a thinker:

Man is but a leaf!
Write it with feeling into your copybook,
For ours is not to walk among the herd as diddlers
But to set proverbial caldrons bubbling upon the burners of reason;
And string words in comparative knots until all isms become one.

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