I was chatting with a fish the other day
Who wore a powdered wig and spoke with such eloquence
one could believe he was Benjamin Franklin in his past life.
He clutched a pen and a notebook, immersed in deep thought.
“Fish,” I called to him, “what nonsense are you pondering over today?”
“Dog,” says he, “If thou wish not to be forgotten in the old, torn pages of history,
write things worthy of being read or do things worthy of being written of!”
“What nonsense!” I laughed. “Your epiphanies, as you call them, are worthless!”
To that he responded “My friend, I do what I can, and what I can do is think.”
“What good is creating ideas if you are not willing to take action upon them?”
“It is true that well done is better than well said, however I am merely a fish”
“A fish, he says, a fish!” I chuckled,
“You speak of changing the world, yet your attitude speaks otherwise.”
“My fate- whether I approve of it or not- is to remain in this tank until I perish.”
“Dear Fish, the sour disappointments we face only sweeten our victories.”
“Dog,” he sighs, “My only hope is to live on in the hearts of others.”
With that he left me, though in spirit he is omnipresent.
His thoughts were worthy of being written of,
and so I write of him now.