"The Endless Search"

 

"The Endless Search" 

In search for the cure for a fool,

He almost became one

Until he was forced back to his wretched holes

By the strong fledgling arms of new reasonings 

Standing tall against all the body of piled up truth he has ever known.

Truth stored up for long 

Soon loses its efficacy

And become sour in the mouth of youngsters

Who the new times have overfed with sweet sense at their fingertips. 

How we ever came to this point

Has eluded both sense and reason

Nonetheless, we are on a march

With ourselves, dead or alive, as the perpetual slaves

of our search to know which lies beyond knowledge...