The Truth About Tigers

It isn’t like you said the actual words,
But I caught your drift just the same.
And while I may not prance joyfully
Down the promenade in agreement,

I can’t dispute your point. I wonder,
If Gray, in seventeen forty-two, with tomes
Of Seneca beside, his thoughts adrift
In Stoic seas—did he find bliss in nescience?

One can hear the old philosopher, speaking to Lucilius,
Of the burden and balm of knowing,
The impossibility of living—a truly happy life,
Or even one bearable—beneath the veil of naivety.

When Gray penned his oft-misquoted ode,
Did he whisper of the folly in our wisdom,
The unseen chains it casts upon the mind?

Of course, if I’d never danced through those pages,
I wouldn’t be here, struggling to weave
these thoughts into questions
and answers in the first place.