The man dares not too far afield
From where his life was set,
But keeps himself quite close at home
And ventures little yet.
His feet could tread a thousand miles,
His eyes could search the stars,
His mind could work the mysteries
Of Jupiter and Mars.
He has within the faculty
For all of this and more,
But lacks the spark to look around—
The spirit to explore.
He bides his time and wonders not
At why he is on Earth,
And ponders not his inner state,
Nor contemplates its worth.
He doesn’t care for history
Or those who’ve gone before.
Nor cares he for the future or
The souls who lie in store.
He eats and sleeps and works and
Satisfies himself with sports,
And does his best to notice not
That there are other sorts
Who learn and read and grow and think
And wonder every day—
Who love and laugh and cry and sing
And have some things to say—
Who work the puzzles of this world
And venture in their minds
To make good sense of why we’re here—
Who search in hope to find
The way a person ought to live
And treat his fellow man,
And how he best should manage
His beliefs and thoughts and plans—
He sees them passing to and fro,
But pays them little mind,
And it does not occur to him
To emulate their kind.
And though he has, the same as them,
The means to do it, too,
He’s lived his life, so far, and never
Stopped to think it through.
Oh, he could do it any day
Until his life is done,
Though many like him will not budge
No matter what may come.
For him, to think’s too much to dare,
For he has yet to learn
That glorious gift to humankind
For which keen souls do yearn.
Instead he dares to do without,
Pretending not to need
The wisdom of the ages that,
For others, is their creed.
And so he lives, and millions more
Like him, or in between,
For whom the lessons go unlearned
And wisdom’s joys unseen.
