Knowledge Kills

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    Knowledge Kills

    Tell me great prophet,who's faith,lies,in fear.
    Tell me the secret of life,
    but make it short the end it draws near.


    The prophet turned to me.
    Through his long gray hair his eyes I could see.
    The blood shot red,the blues,the greens.
    Right then and there I knew I could not flee.



    He grabbed me by the throat,and cried in my eyes.
    He could not speak a word but lies.
    "Cant you see? Cant you see? What this knowledge has done to me?".
    He pleaded with me to set my mind free.
    I left him there and went back to my studies.

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    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

    JohnWalters’s Poems (2)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The Old Man and I 0
    Knowledge Kills 0