Thinking It All Through (Poetry)

No man’s born a philosopher
but the poet’s eye all-seeing
declares what’s true and wisdom shows
it’s who he ends up being

No woman’s born a deity
but beauty brings men wooing
and puts her on a pedestal
for fickle love’s undoing

If despots were as poets are
and poets more than mortal
life would be all holiday
where hatred found no portal

The ideal world would be on Earth
and Heaven have no takers
while even Hell might be content
with simple mischief-makers

If Nature weeded out the worst
and found a true solution
to all the problems of mankind
by peaceful revolution

It might be bliss for almost all
except there’s always one
who’s discontent and grumbles life’s
no longer any fun

And it’s tiring knowing this — it keeps
the poet up all night
re-working his philosophy
to include each new insight