On Philosophy

Long have I pondered in secrecy thus-

The Mysteries within the Spirit-

And all I have learned, I now shall discuss-

Do well would you all not to fear it.

Of all of the volumes and verses and pages-

And all of the books I have scoured-

Millions of sayings brought forth by the sages-

And my inner wisdom empowered.

Though all that I’ve read, I fear it is waste-

And all thrown away to the Wind-

And so going forth, we all must make haste-

For here sitting idle, we’ve sinned.

We wasted our lives in solitude reading-

While others far smatter than we-

They all have suffered and as they lie bleeding-

They know the meaning of true Victory.

We who here sit I now see we are weak-

As we all waste away with our time-

The hope for the future we wanted is bleak-

And evermore fading sublime.

Perhaps it is always not knowing at all-

And that be the meaning of Life-

Or maybe in fact and in deed as we call-

Reliving the struggle and strife.

So with all said and done, I can say naught but this-

Herein the wise men have nothing to give-

At the end of the day, it’s just hard to miss-

That the point of this life is to live.