Never judge the wisdom of the verse
By measures of success of its flesh.
If there’s any wisdom in wisdom
It’s this: wisdom doesn’t bring success.
It’s a possession, like all the rest.
Flesh carries it like a feathered crown,
Taunting the predators on their quests,
Their sacred, earthly quests, to survive
A bit longer by killing something
Digestible. Only, wisdom is
Not digestible, after the flesh.
Wisdom thrives being not quite alive.
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