After years of wandering in the woods
I came up with this brilliant plan.
A foolproof logic that consistently would
stand up to the most inquisitive man.
The true nature of things is unknowable
and my life had indeed been wasted.
So I devised something showable
with lies within it nested.
A slight untruth that would protect
a saintly, wise recluse.
As long as one doesn’t deeply inspect
it’s certainly not abuse.
I lie for myself, to justify
a miserable, failed persistence.
I lie knowing it doesn’t signify
anything beyond my own existence.
My words won’t stand the test of time:
before long their faults discovered.
Then someone new may begin to mine
the depths of Truth left uncovered.
The most tragic outcome I can think
is of my words enduring long.
Of people trusting an old dry ink
and a convoluted, meaningless song.
But the chances of that are slim and low
for the future’s always smarter.
The coming generations of tomorrow
must go far, and even farther.
So I think I’m safe with my little lie
though my profession it will taint.
The world won’t devolve and have to survive
on the tales of an accidental saint.