A Ballad of Empty Mind
Behold the sage who scrolls at dawn,
With thumb a-blur and mind withdrawn,
Who skims a headline, reads a tweet,
And deems his morning brain complete.
He knows no history, knows no fact;
Yet nuance cannot pierce his act.
Yet in his chest, a fire swells:
The truth, he feels, within him dwells.
“But I have thoughts!” he cries aloud,
Above the scholarly, weary crowd.
“My gut is PhD enough;
Your data’s dull; my guess is rough,
But rough is honest, bold, and free!
Why weigh the depths when I have me?”
The expert speaks of cause and chain,
Of tangled loss and grief and gain.
Our hero snorts, “That’s far too slow;
I solved it all three tweets ago.
“It’s greed! It’s fear! It’s left! It’s right!
I’ll end this debate with all my might.”
And so he plunges, sword of pride,
With ignorance as his trusted guide.
He tramples nuance, stomps on shade;
Of every grey, a mess he’s made.
For nuance is the coward’s art;
The fool must play his simple part.
Oh, arrogance, thy crown is bright!
Thou shinest in the comments’ light.
No shard of knowledge breaks thy gleam;
Thou livest in a waking dream,
Where every take is pure and grand,
And facts are things you withstand.
So raise a glass to folly’s knight,
Who turns discussion into fight,
Who knows no shame, who knows no doubt;
His certain soul will scream and shout:
“My voice is valid, strong, and true,
For I have an opinion too!”
The empty mind makes noise, not light,
And yet it sleeps so sound at night.
©TheVillageBoy.
(The figure man who loves alphabets)
