philosophy is a cul de sac venture
for old men,
for old men are inexperienced
in terminology of change,
no chance of a plateau before the drop
that's death,
philosophy need youth and inexperience
to feed the Aristotelian maxim
designating the essence of philosophy:
genesis of bewilderment, genesis of awe...
old men have seen too many repeats
for the youth to grapple with in order
that the bewildering status quo be kept
like the firmness of the architecture
of complacent tourism allows for a photograph...
unearth the hidden routes, shelter the
most encouraging roads...
limit the old to simply die rather than
allowing them to philosophise...
take away the cushions of duck feather
from their bedded heads and replace them
with blocks of stone... and see how quick
they'll philosophise a return to the drama of life...
but so ineffective their return will be,
they will become shamed by the opulence
they were given, a greedy voice for change
they could never make gunpowder evoke
a volcano birthright of boom.