March 30, 2012
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Such mighty words,
Such empty meaning.
“I do not know”
Are, I believe, words only a few are worthy to pronounce.
What a privilege to be called ignorant!
A privilege many take advantage of;
A privilege hardly any deserves to have.
Not knowing.
Wonderful feeling it is
To know there is a world of possibilities lying ahead our unknowledge,
Far where we are not able to see,
Far where every thought has a chance of being.
Fills us with unquiet emptiness,
Emptiness desirous of being filled,
Blessed we are it never will.
Since I do not know,
I conserve the privilege of being called ignorant.
I did not know; I do not know
What it is to be called wise.
Lucky I am,
And lucky I’ll be
If I age without ever becoming it.

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