Cost of the Toll

For the moment I dispute
Whatever thoughts you do impart,
I feel a genius none could refute;
A man of science, words, and art.
But simple truth that I must face
Is that I am a lesser man,
Because my knowledge has its place;
It only lies where my mind stands.
I do not know the world of truth
That I forever seek to find.
I only know how to improve,
How to end a clueless bind.
What matters is not what I say
If I do it for my pride,
What matters is not what I pray
If I pray for God’s left side.
What matters is the ear I use
To hear a newness never known.
What matters is what I peruse
To learn of seeds Vavilov has sewn.
What matters is a willing heart
And willing mind and willing sense,
For with these, when you do impart
The knowledge you have, hence
I am closer to my goal
Of the truth I seek to find.
Another cent for the ferry toll
Across the lake of clueless bind.

© Blake Leitch October 9, 2015

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