The lofty enlightenment philosopher,
Raised reason on a pedestal
But could not see from his
Great marble heights of crisp
Geometric blocks of logical precision,
That he was a moral pygmy.
He wrinkled up his nose
And screwed his mouth
Into a dog’s bottom
And uttered in breathy distain
“The truth is only accessible to great minds
With a higher understanding of
Convoluted and often arduously pedantic texts.”
Meanwhile a cantankerous layabout
Wallowed in the gutter,
Sheltered from the cold by a big whisky blanket
Belched out a profound epithet of much wisdom,
“It’s what you make of it”
He wheezed,
“My friend it’s what you make of it”.
Raised reason on a pedestal
But could not see from his
Great marble heights of crisp
Geometric blocks of logical precision,
That he was a moral pygmy.
He wrinkled up his nose
And screwed his mouth
Into a dog’s bottom
And uttered in breathy distain
“The truth is only accessible to great minds
With a higher understanding of
Convoluted and often arduously pedantic texts.”
Meanwhile a cantankerous layabout
Wallowed in the gutter,
Sheltered from the cold by a big whisky blanket
Belched out a profound epithet of much wisdom,
“It’s what you make of it”
He wheezed,
“My friend it’s what you make of it”.
H.Stroud.
*
There are wild wandering Sufis
called Qalandars,
who are constantly tickled with life.
It's scandalous how they love and laugh
at any small event.
People gossip about them, and that
makes them deft in their cunning,
but really
a great God-wrestling goes on
inside these wanderers,
a flood of sunlight
that's drunk with the whole thing...
Rumi
*
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