Page 40 - Labyrinth--Suburban Stardust

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The wise old man sat on his chair. Everyone spat at the wise old man’s face. They all walked around him, they didn’t care About the wide open bookcase In front of them.
If only they listened, if only they tried, Then their thoughts wouldn’t have been so bovine. He could amaze through his intellect and make eyes go wide. With soft-spoken words and knowledge divine, He could enlighten the foggiest of minds.
The old man would not ask for riches or goods, He would merely ask for conversation at teatime. So he was left to ponder alone in the neighborhood. His requests were declined all the time. And all that beautiful insight and perspective on life remained unshared.
The old man would simply offer a tip on improving a task, But it would be ignored and never applauded. “I know what’s wrong, just ask!” “No thanks, I don’t need to be aided.” This went on for the rest of his life, ravaging the confidence he once had about his own mind.
And it wasn’t until the old man had perished That his wisdom finally began to be cherished.
Poet: Jesse tadeo