by | May 14, 2015 | Poetry | 0 comments

You know it all,
or so you think,
yet all around
from Lethe drink;
you don’t give a hand—
forever stuck
you keep them there
for you to rock.

For some learn to impress
with what man already knows;
they leave the highway
to a small off-road,
the little beetle shines
like a super car from Mars;
not meant to finish any race
or give a lift to anyone,
but to show off
what everybody knows;
too much is wasted
on making people awe
what they easily forget.

Just like the rain,
knowledge should go—
borrowed from land
cooked and compressed
then given back to land.
We own nothing you and I,
but what we have given;
whatever we have taken
will never be ours;
what good is it for humanity
if we learn every line of history
without adding our own line?

May 14, 2015


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