It’s that I know not what I know
That screws my head on straight,
Or else I’m too afraid to go
Outside the prison gate;
I’d rather hole up in my cell
And wallow in despair
Than walk among the good and well
And breathe the clement air.
Yet knowing undermines all that
And gives my spirit wings,
And I become an acrobat
Who dances, leaps and springs.
And everybody that I see
Is joyful at the sight of me.
Photo by Drew Colins on Unsplash
Knowing
