A good heart, a good head, he said
Are the cobblestones that lead to wisdom's door
But even if I become good enough to reach it
There is a certain apprehension in knocking upon that door
For I know I cannot enter
And sit with wisdom awhile
As the scholars do
Only to find that wisdom bores of their company
No, I do not seek wisdom's table
Nor wisdom's hand
To woo and court wisdom
Until wisdom is with me wed
And wisdom's dowry some status
For that is an ugly and certain annulment
No, wisdom is my better, I know
But even if I must drag wisdom
From wisdom's doorway across the stones of a good head and heart
Far beyond all that is good
To the place where truth itself lies bleeding in the streets
There will I watch as wisdom washes the wounds
And comments softly
Saying something I’m not yet quite ready to hear
Then will I be wisdom's assistant
Running for water or handing wisdom the bandages when asked,
Changing bedpans and taking the blood-pressure of wisdom's patients
Sitting by the bedside of those that wisdom just could not save
As they pass with wisdom's own words on their lips
A benediction in homage of the one who at first came with such effort
But then upon seeing the need, offered all wisdom could give
Knowing that sometimes you must do everything to save
And sometimes you must let what is dead be dead
For there are so many with good intentions
But wisdom lies somewhere apart from all that
Most often found in between somewhere
Picking up the pieces of truth
As it lies beaten, bruised, and bloody
Upon streets of cobblestone and question marks
Unfinished thoughts we stopped thinking
So we could listen a little closer
Thanks
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