Like most wise men, he was foolish
At ill-chosen places and times
For unforeseeable reasons
And unpredictable rhymes.
Believing that words meant something
That actions spoke best unexplained
That Right was something understood
And fate a thing ordained
He didn’t feel the earth moving
‘Til it rose beneath his feet
‘Til he stood his lonely, shifting ground
While the good fell back in retreat.
And when the foundations crumbled
And the earth itself shrugged at his pain
He glared at the darkening heaven
That poured forth the fire and rain.
And vanished, at last, in the mystery
Of why some men choose to stay.
Like most of the wise, he was foolish.
Like some fools, he was wise in his way.
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