There is in every age a scanty pool
of wiser souls. The multitudes seek fame
and fortune's wealth and props which makes them 'cool'.
No thoughts of why they live, nor any aim
to heighten mind, lays siege to rooted views.
In fact, it's faith, that fuses fixed belief
to attitudes which boost their cosmic snooze.
Thinking is hard, and knowledge is the thief
that robs their fantasies. Heads in the sand,
averse to thought or striving, they take ease
reliving dust and glorifying bland
middleroad bunk, while praising cornball cheese.
As wisdom is an artform fueled on truth,
a couscious man must be a dauntless sleuth.