Intelligence and Knowledge

Intelligence and knowledge may have uses,
But I'm not so sure. One ages out of childhood,
And, as one does, the patterns form, and what
One apprehends no longer is itself. It's just
A prompt which sends the mind into the files
It has filled. “What is” becomes what came
Before, a thing which cannot be examined,
Cannot be appreciated for itself. The world
Shrinks. It loses meaning. Nothing can surprise
Or please the one who knows and understands.
The whole of life, beyond some point, is packaged
And dismissed.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 57 times
Written on 2020-09-07 at 12:32

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