There is no point in being merely clever,
However much one likes to call the tune.
Each bit of insight leads one to forever,
Yielding thoughts that make the moment bloom.
Even so, some prostitute the mind
As they exchange intelligence for things,
Rewarded more than amply, but resigned
Over time to living without wings.
For me the mind is for perceiving beauty,
The glory and the radiance of being.
However cleverly one does one's duty,
Each labor won is leisure lost for seeing.
Maybe one should use one's mind for good,
Obliged by conscience to serve others' needs.
No doubt. But while doing as one should,
Know where such self-sacrificing leads.
Each life's a light that is for moments lit.
Yet one can spend them in the infinite.