A Cautionary Tale From a Bauld Man

Cape Bauld LighthouseThis is my little rant.
I prost it myself.
I didn’t rhyme it using Dylan,
because I Kant.

A narrative going on inside my head.
It says, somehow, I matter.
Ergo, I may stink,
therefore I bathe.

Reduced of dilectus intelekto,
still, I continue to blather.
The right of the privileged,
with dreams of clarity.

For gratitude,
of the platitude,
which came before.

Erudite encyclical,
of the everyday miracle,
of the contemplative need,
to find the right Nietzsche…

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