Wisdom

I went to the well

To hear the echo sound

Nothing came;

Bereft I tried again

And from the depths

A groan was heard

Low and staccato

Like speech was hard

All the way from hell

Even though, before

When times were kinder

The voice that came

Was musical as bells.

I frowned and yelled

Perhaps too rudely

But this time around

No news came back

From underground;

At least nothing good.

My echo framed the question:

Who is it then, who dares

To ask but does not listen?

When the earth writhes in pain

As foul weather

And disease appear again.

Is it because you think

It’s gold the sound

Of your opinion,

Gold enough to hear again?

But that which glistens

Is all reflection;

This much is clear:

If you have brought no wisdom

You will never find it here.