The firmest suppositions I suppose,
The ones I’m most persuaded of, are those
I call convictions since they’ve conquered all
The doubts that kept my confidence in thrall.
Such confident convictions are not Truth,
The kind once urged by “Verily, in sooth!”
As Absolute and Ultimate; those days
Are done; now relativity’s our craze.
And yet they are the best I can believe,
Proving in practice able to relieve
Our woes the most, to be reliable
Long term, and well withstand the critical.
They’re suppositions proved pragmythically:
The nearest I can move toward certainty.