As the son of Cambridge
That he was
Early on he rejected metaphysics
'Here be there monsters.'

Searching instead for the perfect language
Spiritual and moral knowledge
Become obsolete terms
The intellectual equivalence
Of the appendix
Left behind by evolution

In a language that gives silence it's power
And confers upon it meaning and reference
He was always the brightest light in the room
Often blinding his students
From his predecessors
He had much to learn and little to say

A revolutionary with
'Freedom from semantic bewitchment.'
As his motto
The soaring silence of a be-bop saxophone
In a philosophic orchestra

Poetry by Wumbulu
Read 491 times
Written on 2017-06-28 at 14:49

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
A person could live by the final two lines alone.

This is a fine rendition of a journey. So many (not dis-including myself) master the art of rejection, but fail to find any sort of 'soaring silence' to fill the void.

"7" seems unknowable.

ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo, Wumbulu.