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Questions for the Ages

Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.

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Who are you, yes you, who?

Why are you, yes you, why?

When are you, yes you, when?

How are you, yes you, how?

These are the questions,

Questions asked in ignorance,

The questions that seek answers,

And the ones that will conquer.

Every level of every inquisition,

Dig deep like scalpels into flesh.

Dissect the soul of one you call friend,

Only to find the organs of enemies.

For these questions brought to light,

A series of answers with broken truths.

Was asking the question worth it,

The answer all that you were seeking?

Walk the path of inquisition,

For the destinations are many.

Lest you stay still and become lost,

To time and your own rigid heart.


You know I heard it said once, I forget where and how exactly it was said, that, "Philosophy isn't really deep at all, and the philosophers not that intelligent. They just happened to get there first, and say it best!"

That statement continues to resonate with me as I look at philosophy throughout the ages. It is quite true, and even further widely disregarded by those who use philosophy as a tool of shifty self-service, to the disservice of the masses.

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