I cannot answer the man who despises the dust he is made of.
And you, O skeptic, who profess to know nothing - how shall I argue?
If you would learn a room by shutting your eyes
And discovering by touch what e’er you can find
I shall not prohibit thee.

“But it is rather that
I know nothing with certainty,” say you.
Very well.
I shall go and find someone who does.

“You are naive,” say you.
Oh?
“It is arrogance,” say you,
“To suppose you have discovered the well of truth.”
Ah.

Well, enjoy wandering your trackless wastes
And I, I shall drink from this well,
This sweet Oasis.
You say it is not Truth,
But if that is true,
I cannot understand why I am free,
Dear heart.

Dear heart,
I will still be here when you thirst;
The well will not run dry.
Come then, and be satisfied.