I am a beggar slowly groping my way down a sunlit path.My feeble voice, my fingerprints will all in due time onward pass.I am a breath of wind that whistles, gently strokes the window glass.Speaking words that dissipate, they fall away, they will not last. The dust perhaps, on which you dance was once a man better than I,A man who’s deeds caused you to swoon, went on and taught the world to fly.But now the earth is his abode and back to ruin he now slides,And I sit here amidst his essence, lift my vision to the sky. Do not waste your own concern, this is not melancholy prose,I do not envy those who walk the roads that I can never go.For in the end there is no tally, no epic, formidable foe,We will lie silent together, from whence we came, we all will go.
Wisdom lies not in thinking outside the box. Wisdom is the realization that there is no box. Truth and reality extend as far as the eye can see and infinitely further.