The philosophizing fool, sits quietly alone,
In the midst of all the sane masses,
So out of place, spoiling the landscape,
Like a dot of grey already fading away,
Into the splash of colors, so vivid and alive,
Appealing to base passions, senses, the eye.
The world that's left is of such a kind,
All noise, flamboyance and lies,
And that little speck of black and white,
Poor fool who still dares to philosophize,
Grows fainter and feebler, pulled back,
Into the vortex of time, another distant age,
Where he might hope to belong.
But though he is trampled and overrun,
By the streaks and splashes of color,
The philosophizing fool is trapped in time,
And space, and there is no sign of escape,
Though again the perplexed misfit asks himself,
What he is doing and where he is going!
Buried deep within his cavern mind,
Are such rich and earnest thoughts,
Fancies, reveries that take upward flights
Into the heights of wisdom and its light,
But of what use is this inexplicable gift?
To render the fool unknowable?
And all his futile philosophizing, unsearchable?
For none have use or want for it -
All the wealth he has and yearns to give!
(Not complete)
August 21, 2022
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