Nov. 28th, 2012

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 if knowledge is the end that each must seek

through all the tangled forest of the text

it is no wonder that we are so vexed

on the occasion of a sharp critique

delivered in plain words only the meek

affect to listen though they are perplexed

since they have no real sense of what comes next

and no desire to let their hurt minds speak

while up above the hunter is alert

to every nuance of the changing breeze

eager to know what comes in scent or sight

since that one thing may help or may yet hurt

but either way must fall before it flees

and be dragged out into the open light

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
fledgist

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