Author Information
Fist of the Fool
I've dreamt of the solutions
To the nagging present, the nagging past
Sagging skin, short of breath
Falling fast and moving slowly
I haven't wept but thoughts considered
Admittance to a tear or two
Because of shame and all included
It was a chore to pass the mirrors
So inspired, so I fought
Against these stupid ways of me
The slow encumbrance, the vapid thing
That was always greeting me once more
Now I choose to stand and throw
A clumsy fist that bends and faults
I buckle down and find the will
To see myself as something
I take a punch, my nose may bleed
My face will feel the agony
Still I shuffle and follow through
And soon I'll be struck again
So now it is a puzzled thought
Have a hand in your reprise
To be beaten or not to be
'Tis the question blind
The fool can't block or swing with might
Such a fool can hardly stand
Fools as this are just so quiet
Fools as this are just a bore
Yet this fool may keep on trying
To learn to guard or become like rock
And before the next shall come a calling
Perhaps he'll be a fool no more.
