What I bothered to learn
I had to make up.
The facts, it turns out,
Are never enough
Unless they add up —
And there are
Far too many
Differential equations
To turn ennui
And powerlessness
Into bliss,
The bliss of
An orderly mind
In an orderly world,
Where pain is
Speculated about daily
For not being known,
Although it looks like
That is all
That was left
In the last pot of gold
Shining as
The ultimate value,
For that, it turns out,
Is all we know,
The gaps
And our greed
To have them
Full.
