Oi, Wisdom,
The price payed,
To exude was too much,
the innocence lost
is just impossible to recover.

Suffering only, And yes failing,
Notice all the wise men though,
Are no longer men of action.
They know better how fruitless,
Their efforts do be.
All they have left are their stories,
In blind hope that someone will listen.

Indeed, I would trade all my wisdom for,
My blissful ignorant self to,
Come back again,
Like an old lover turned round the corner,
Smiling to meet you, coincidentally
Out the river bend.

Worse still, I can tell,
That me has flown off never to land,
Within,
And that I can see my future me,
Losing my current lack of knowledge,
and becoming stubborn on some forlorn path,
Thinking wisely,
This is "right", this is "best",
This is the path of least resistance,
the path of my success,
And oh my intelligence,
And hard-earned, worthless wisdom,
Will coalesce, but still even then,
In just thinking there is a way,
More still will I lose my very same,
Essence.
And that is a true shame.
*******,
Wisdom.
I ought to be young and dumb,
Again.