Homo Fanaticus

I went to bed while thinking last night. It was a mistake. I slogged through eight hours of muddled gestation of befuddled limerick. According to Winston Churchill (and many others), the definition of a fanatic is one who can’t change his mind and won’t change the subject. That was me last night. I am more flexible when awake.

Looking Back at 2025 From One Possible Future

The species named homo fanaticus

with anti-green bias dogmaticus,
ignoring the facts, axed
the dread carbon tax.
Extinction became automaticus.

Hardly worth a night's sleep.

Bing could have done better in five seconds.

Hey Bing, compose some free verse, irregular meter and no rhyme, about the tortuous path to the truth known as wisdom.

Bing answers in three seconds. Must have anticipated my request:

In a forest thick with shadows

and echoes of those who wandered before,

the truth lies hidden.

Roots tangle with intentions,

branches scrape the sky,

aching to see light.

Footsteps falter on stones,

questions as old as time

litter the ground.

Here, among ancient trees,

the path twists,

serpentine and unyielding.

Silent whispers guide the way,

puzzling riddles in the wind,

leading nowhere and everywhere.

In moments of clarity,

the sky parts, revealing

the wisdom sought.

Not in the destination,

but in the weariness of the journey,

truth becomes known.

A voice within whispers softly,

“The search itself,

that is where wisdom resides.”

*****************

Next time I ask Bing before bed.

*****************

Here's one I composed while awake a few years ago pre-Bing.
Looking Back and Dreaming Forward