Of course it is impossible to think
We won’t pull back, though just before the brink
Of the Apocalypse we’re headed for,
Discovering some wisdom in our core
Beneath the folly that has long prevailed,
Against which prophets have forever railed
And seemed ironically our destiny—
Our Homo sapient insanity.
How we’ll at last achieve this grand conversion
Except by some baptismal immersion
In Wisdom’s sacred font to cleanse our folly,
Clearing our history of melancholy
Is hard to see and harder to devise:
And yet our only hope is to grow wise.