Knowledge

O! take heed of Knowledge entombed below

Whose hands are ice and cheeks are stone.

Her eyes stare, but do not see your face.

Her ears are stopped by silence of the ages.

But once, in life, you knew her—

Her hands warm, her cheeks aflame

Below those eyes that pierced you

And ears that heard each thought.

She was stately, beautiful and bright.

Many came before her, to look upon her:

Some to greatness, some to ruin,

Some to never be the same again.

Oh, she was crafty, a wily goddess.

Men became great as her lovers

And others failed as her abusers

But all knew her as the wisest of all.

Alas! Look now upon her face.

She slowly rots beneath the ground.

Those lips, once scented with myrrh,

Now carry the stench of the deceased.

As the ages pass, she will pass to dust.

Her corpse will be the earth below you.

The grass will grow above her,

And nothing will be left.

Go to her, talk to her, love her

Before the grass grows over her

Before she becomes the dirt below

Before she is forgotten.

Maybe, just maybe, she’ll know

Her ears will know your voice.

Her lips will come to life once more

And speak to you again.