We want to know about ghosts,
But maybe not entirely,
Because maybe it’s somehow
More satisfying if we don’t
Find out for sure.
We want to know about what’s beyond,
But not enough to dig up what all
The ancients have written about it.
Are we afraid to know?
Are we somehow more satisfied
To remain unsatisfied?
What curious animals, we,
That a ghost of an idea
Should satisfy us more
Than the knowing—
And that we stop so far short
In the finding out
As to leave undiscovered
Certain treasures that were
Set in print in ages past
Just so that humans
Could know such things.
Yet we keep them
In the Restricted Section
Where we can keep a close eye
On anyone who would dare
To look into them,
Because if anybody did,
There’s probably something
Wrong with him.
Why can’t he just wonder passively
Like everybody else?
