In a patched dress of coarse cloth
And having my shoes
Tied together with scotch,
I was once passing by
One sensationally looking bourgeois
Of the 5th Avenue,
In his chic suit, who said to me,
'How great, man, is your distress?'
Smiling, I retorted at once,
'It is poverty, sir, not distress!
While a poet experiences the Path
And all its milestones, turns
And curves, he cannot be
Going about in distress.
'Tattered clothes
And shoes tied on the feet
Are the sign of poverty,
Not of distress. This is what we,
People of arts and intellects,
Are used to style
'Not meeting with the right time. . .'
Intellect knows universal truths exist. Humankind is taught to ignore truths en mass. Ignorance has become governance.
Choose a king? Some who 'knew', "Newton, Einstein, Galileo, Hawking." The list is long. A leader, yes, a king, never! Knowing, beginning. Understanding, the goal.
B.
Love ya!
Jane