The words of wisdom
Start with gurgles, grow to gibber,
Then break branches to fake swordfight with trees,
And soon they are confused
By the sun when they are moon
And the dark when they are light.
Before long they’ve amassed armies and acolytes
And throw flames over virgin soil,
But their victories are temporary,
Their doubts too persistent,
And they fall back eventually
To what they are:
Dependent on others,
Who now see what once was meaning
Only a will to mean,
Like a blind woman leads with her stick.
