The Fool's Philosophy
On the jagged edge of sanity,
To go this way or that?
To take the easy way out or take the laborious brittle path
of truth,
Some do step aside to take the tumultuous tracks of
treachery,
To trample over smooth rocks, stones, grass and waylaid thorns,
Fondle the vines and pluck perfumed purple flowers of deceit,
from the very base of their nasty shoots,
To share some with others, and, to keep few for self,
To tear apart the flesh of the forbidden fruit, and out spit,
like seeds, the bitter truths.
On this steep road of truth, that merges into the lofty
green hills of happiness,
Stop! See the way, lest the perfumes of purple flowers draw
you to a euphoric play,
Halt, and see the vines tangle your legs, and scuttle the
right step,
Fend, as they slash your chest and pierce your heart, ensnare
your senses.
‘I go this way or that? I go this way or that?’ You chant in
a trance.
And to answer that is a humongous maddening task.
And then The Fool steps in,
The words of the mad speak the words of the truth,
Spoken without fear,
Spoken to spook:
‘Fool of the wise sane world! Hey ho!
Fool on the way!
Hit on the head! Nay no!
Steps of a cur stray!
Knock on Wood!
Bury the black cat!
Walk Away!
And remember this mad cap!’
‘Why did you leave the grass so green?
Why did you take the paths that gleamed?
And thus the vines pulled and pulled,
And thus were your senses poisoned and lulled,
The mind, the thoughts went into a twisted play,
Turned your
intentions to sway! Hey! Hey ! Hey Now!
Cut of the vines and shake of the mud!
Crush the purple flowers the moment they bud!
Jump over the fence and cross over the thorny twines!
Keep to the brittle path of truth as it winds,
Goal to the horizon and with an eye on your soul,
The path to happiness will slowly enfold,
Remember, sanity is standing on the edge of a thin line to
be cruel,
Never forget, dear wise man of the world, the wisdom in the
words of this Philosopher Fool!
