The need of anyone man to understand himself
Is tied directly to his understanding of the world.
If this man thinks himself to be a great philosophizer,
A grand thinker in the realm of the abstract,
A tireless devotee of espousing his credentials
In terms of who his professors were at college
And who read his dissertation,
Than one may rest assured that man is little better
Than a monkey caged at the zoo. It is entertaining to watch,
But not much more than a diversion.
He is forever locked in his own kingdom,
A prisoner who cannot see the Iron bars
Because he has forged them.
A prison is no less a prison
Just because you happen to be its constructor.
And so it is with me.
For a time I was in my cage,
And I called it a preferred way of life.
My meals were served up on Tin; I ignored it into silver.
My water was in a bowl I had designed, I chose to call it “Viking Ale in a Goblet.”
However, disregarding the facts does not negate the facts,
Nor does it circumvent the truth.
So out of the cage I finally escaped,
And in doing so was forced to shatter everything
I thought was worth something.
A man is constructed by the things he constructs.
If a man is a carpenter,
Then he is known by the houses he has built.
I am a writer,
and therefore I am known by what I put on paper.
Anything else is returning to the ashes of the prison I burned to the ground. -E.D.G.