Once answers eluded the way my mind yearns To forever question, and ever to learn I gave myself fully to truth and to thought Now lost in a forging; my mind wholly wrought. But she told me to rather stay curious: live Never contented with answers they give. Philosophy, science,…
The love of wisdom is no love per se. It acts like dusty, passionless old tomes And gives no warmth of moonlit nights to they Who bade fair wisdom call their hearts her home. For rather, philosophe, you dwell on ink And put to death vitality and comb The nits…
4.27: Sophia by *LaBruyereA beautiful piece of fixed form poetry postscript Why is it all my weary days are spent In turning cowslips into rays of sun And floating over blades of grass, unbent And drawing four conclusions out of one? No mercy hath the stone and wooden fence…