ignorance

pokes fun at knowledge, do not drag me towards the wishing well. such lofty dreams, what wonders await said knowledge to the ostrich stuck so deep within sands it barely perceives the current time, and what for? indeed, what for when the tides pay no attention to the swimmers strong, when the talk has become stamped like the 10 commandments though the god is a different one, not on mount sinai. this mountain is piled on bones, on top of more bones for those whose voices have been muted, strength has always been the waves that breaks and sinks, those powerful arms alas mean nothing as nature bends what is in her way to become dots, splashes and nothing more but bones, buried on top of bones, while the one who caught the wave exclaims of virtue the ignorant they try their best to understand this knowledge slowly seeping into foggy minds - bones on top of bones a mountain of gold that needs no advocates, no crusade, no violence, no compulsion, no persuasion, it needs only hearts that see what gold can buy.