Across the age, the changing wind of time,
The battles rage, at loss for truth or peace,
The carnal losses weigh on broken rhyme,
The war and strife will stay, and spread disease.
The pedestal of thought makes man divine,
The knowledge he has sought explains the trees,
And yet the word for all this thought divine,
Cannot be heard, and yields the great disease.
For knowledge vast is nothing if not shared,
The learning cast aside when not passed on,
A melody of loss is thus procured,
The evils are the cost of learning gone.
As man does learn the truths of all the world,
They cannot ere be tools unless unfurled.
Written December 2, 2006