Though wisdom is the best we might achieve,
It’s wizdumb to which most of us still cleave—
An oxymoron that depicts our lot
As half and half, a smartass ill-begot.
The Centaurs and the Satyrs long ago
This same perverse dichotomy would show,
For what in us aspires to rational
Is grounded in an Earth-bound animal.
We know no way to rise above our state
Unless transcendence save us from that fate,
Something beyond our earthly cognizance
To intervene and aid in our advance.
That wisdom to which human beings aspire
Comes not from here below, but somewhere higher.