A case of the nerves…

There once was a philosopher with plenty of nerve,

He did live in a time when philosophy had plenty of verve,

The general populace did listen with a great deal of reserve,

As he wrote great treatises, all to the glory of those he did serve…

They did read and accept his writes allowing him to them publish,

On slabs of stone they were read in halls where met the elders,

He did find himself a bundle of nerves, worrying he did right,

To be accepted by the old and infirmed, they did hold the eternal light…

Never was he passed over when it came time to be read,

He was summoned to read more and more till the time he was dead,

After death though he did find, they still summoned him,

In the halls of the elders they did stuff his body and admire his head…

What would they find when open they did his head?

What did he care, his nervousness was gone since now he was dead,

He sat on his cloud and re-wrote and re-read what he in the past life did write,

Was it good, was it bad, only he knew the answer there that was right…

            © ~ ed 2/17/05