Grandiose is man!
	Who trods this sphere of sun
	And clay, and presumes
	Knowledge of the world,
	Boundless and infinite.
	Grandiose is man--
	Who drags about from day
	To day, vainly, vainly
	Pursuing whys and wheres
	To questions whose answers
	Are as remote as bygone Time.
	Human beings strive to be machines
	And labor long and hard
	To make thinking men of metal minds.
	Study, though not futile,
	Is not an end or goal--
	Somehow, there is more to Life
	Than a constant scurry after knowledge.
	But man knows no other way.
	How beautiful is a mind
	That cannot take a moment
	To inhale the sweetness of a flower?
	How wonderful is an intellect
	With no time to wander from glen to glen?
	How awesome is a brain
	That never thrills at the sparkling stars?
	We are little, indeed,
	And exceeding small in our brilliance.
	We exist so short a time
	And do so little of what
	Could be done--
	Yet we do so much!
	Our world is a world of paradox,
	Misplaced thrust and twisted energy.
	Do lead us into temptation, O Lord,
	That we may someday
	Be coaxed from our book-ridden cells
	And led to rejoice
	In the laughing sunshine of Life,
	Given us freely--
	And which we so oft ignore.
	What is a mind?
	A door to understanding through perception,
	Reflection and action.
	Teach us to unlock that door
	And become, at last, human beings.

	4/19/72


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