On Knowledge:
Is knowledge sorrow?
Sorrow, True knowledge?
‘The way of the world,’ a damper on all gladness. The way of the mind, nothing but true sadness. True, True, True,
Does the word ring in your ears too?
Is it only facts, figures, and forms of ‘Knowledge?’ Yet, it rings good. It has to;
No argument, No reason.
What is true must be good.
So dare I purify the mind with this truth?
Knowledge without a true, guarded, and good mind is
sorrow.
Mons Sainte Chapelle:
Glass, Color, Gray skies, Cold,
What would it take for time to unfold?
How far back would I have to go,
To escape the mass of bodies in rows?
Glass, Color, Gray skies, Cold,
Did you really shelter the Kings of old?
What a change from the few elite prayers,
To overwhelmed tourists crowding your stairs.
Glass, Color, Gray skies, Cold,
Mons Sainte Chapelle, my prayers too will you hold?
Purple April:
I remember the old style houses,
Dating to the 60’s or before,
Hotel rooms not-so-secretly the mouse’s, Where my brothers slept on the floors.
I remember the endless drives,
Where it was dangerous to doze,
‘Cause you could awake and not know where
you lie, Or to what country, state, day, or time
you rose. I remember seeing places most kids
don’t, And sleeping on cargo-plane jump seats and floors. Experiencing cultures most
Americans won’t, Traversing Islands, Italy, Germany, France and more. I remember being
alone,
For friends were hard to keep.
Yet for any moment I wouldn’t atone,
And all the benefits I will reap.
I was the child of fast-moving soldiers,
Their strengths bleed into me.
You tell me Resilience was one of my molders, But I know it’s just what it takes
to be free.