the philosopher's chair

the philosopher's chair





this is my work
you see,
hired help at university.
i shuffle papers in these racks
sorting this,
discarding that.



in attics and on basement floors
filing
and maintaining scores.
of dissertations new and old
from those
who pontificate the soul.



until one day a stumbled on
a corner
rarely looked upon.
for hidden there under a sheet
a chair of oak
carved in replete.



with scrolls and ornate diadems
i marveled at
what sort of men.
must have sat upon this throne
while
teaching socrates to throngs.



of eager and inquiring youth
who long
to know the god's own truth.
about the world we call our home,
what makes us long to be reborn.



do we seek truth
for
knowledge's sake?
do we align our thoughts to make,
a world
in our own image gleaned
from intercourse of the unseen?



but i am not the man to know
the difference
in
plato, thoreau.
for i am here to stack and clean
the thoughts of righteous and obscene.



who over centuries of time
sat in a chair of oak
refined.
and still i hear the wanton cry
out in the halls as i
pass by.



of those who would reclaim this chair,
set themselves up
a
knowledge faire.
to claim to know the absolute,
by god
this is the god's own truth!



for still the dust will gather here
upon all these who
sit in chairs.
seems i will never go unfed
as long as questions go unwed.



with answers of these wanting minds
who clamber for
the
thoughts divine,
of those whose buns heated this chair,
i best replace it's cover there.



for still i have much work to do
between
basement and attic stews,
all these boys who would be men,
philosophers
with nice rear ends.



will need their chairs to perch upon
and beat their chests
to siren songs.
proclaiming their proclivities,
never knowing
they are gods to me.






sjw 09/06/09 inspired at this very moment in time by the_death_of_achilles & gendo saved by christ.






from the 'beauty series' of poems