Less than total truthfulness.
“Three things cannot be long hidden: The sun, the moon, and the truth.”
Inability to think and behave rationally despite adequate intelligence.
Advocating and pretending to be what one despises.
Imagining that faith is the basis of all knowledge.
“Believe! – Believe without evidence in what is told by those who speak without knowledge,
of things without parallel. – Believe...“
Interests of a part raised above those of the whole.
Employing an amount of words disproportionately in excess of their meaning's value.
“A little less conversation, a little more action please.”
Yearning for that which is no more and can never be re-attained.
“Nothing ever tastes as sweet as the past.”
Epitaph of Reason
Lords of logic preach to your converted minority: Rise up!
Flail despairing whip of reason at unwitting multitude.
Pathetic cowerer. Dogmatic knower.
As well scourge yourself dark heart, seeker of answers,
shambling feet shackled by uncertainty.
You hide bleak humanity under veneer mask of rationality.
Two heaving monsters rear, engorged yet ravenous,
mouths gaping, cavernous and silent, wet red.
Reason and unreason, polarised yet proud,
unrecognisably grotesque to ancients, even themselves.
Hapless, separate, yet linked by human frailty.
Pause. What then?
Philosophy: ethereal bridge between battle-weary combatants!
Not too late.
Too late for reason.
Eternally condemned, reach again, Grecian stoic, for hemlock-tainted cup.
Perhaps on paralysed final breath you will learn history's only lesson.
Hold boldly aloft the shining talisman of human nothingness.
Monsters merge, to know the world.