Never to settle, devoid of concession
His armor encompasses the knowing -
It's a knight we're showing -
To each his own, but to each the known.
Evil nixed, focus fixed
Gaze acquired, falchion fired
A weapon of the knowing -
It's a knight we're showing -
To each his own, but to each the known.
OVESON: Tell me a tale of the knight of the knowing.
SOCRATES: I will tell you:
DRAGON!, fierce a thing
Open wing and seven fires
Never an eye loosed but on the knight of the knowing
It's a gun show with a knife in a fire fight.
But the knight is fearless.
Raise ye your weapons high!
Sing the song of tales of sorrow!
Bring the horrors of the earth upon the knight of the knowing
And the fires of Hell!
The knight is fearless.
Scathe his armor with claws of steel
Breathe his breath ye fiery beast!
The DRAGON of lies who yearns for his passion!
The DRAGON who manifests himself in every man
Save the knight
For the knight is fearless.
OVESON: Tell me, who is this knight?
KIERKEGAARD: Is it he who stands for the weak?
Is it he who feeds the needy?
Is it he who rises to his peak
When the crowd about gets seedy?
It is he who drinks the bitter cup
When prompted by the good?
Is it he who links his pathway up
When the gods bless his food?
The former are the side effects
The latter is the knight's strength
For it's so that not any pride erects
When the crowd cheers him at length
The knight needn't any promise
That people love him true
For in his heart is an honest:
You've already paid your dues.
The former are the side effects
Of the knight of the knowing's strength
For it's so that not ay pride erects
When the crowd is there to thank.
OVESON: Continue.
SOCRATES: Frozen metal, gleaming expression
Never to concede, devoid of settling
The knowing encompasses his armor -
We're showing a knight -
To each the known and to each his own.
Burning fire meets metal cold
Winter's frost makes fire old
Sharpened steel meets DRAGON's neck
Knowing's foe meets fate of death
Never shall one fruitful oppose
That which never doesn't know.
OVESON: Who knows?
SOCRATES: The knight.
OVESON: Tell me, who is this knight?
KIERKEGAARD: Knights are secrets none can tell
Sure as man is gone to hell
In the event he loses his secrets
Such that he might find his regrets
Regrets of stories lost and told
Stories and truths that were once too old
Old and too dear made dull by the word
A swift blow to faith's herd
It must never be heard.
The crowd is mockery.
No comments:
Post a Comment