Wednesday, February 23, 2011


For all our double knowing, we forget
Over and again the miracle
Of life: how inert elements beget
Organic being, making bright of dull.

And soon we take for granted these our lives,
Careless of how precarious they are,
Forgetting it’s the fittest who survives
Or luckiest, protected by some star.

The real wisdom that our name implies
Is more than knowing our true circumstance,
But knowing in advance that each life dies
And using to its fullest our sole chance.

     How we can plan and shape our precious lives
     To some good ends, wisdom alone contrives.