There are two art of wisdom; we earn,
One seem like a sting of success, the spare
Is filled with the sponge, soap and water of loss.
Wisdom by losing is a cup crafted for us; for us
To drink, shower and weep in it; is a must for all,
And for us to nest in silence or charmed by his gut.
One must have a mind of nothing but win,
I still learn by the cup, drink in the striped cup
And when the time clock in; i will gash the cup.
I searched for wisdom; wisdom for richness,
Some bell i owned, the vast loss i boned,
And a disaster for us to camouflage as his own.
One cannot brief what he cannot sight,
Wait! (I can hear wisdom speak) with his own mouth,
I can (seek) for wisdom; while he cannot hide.
What shall we call him (while he cannot hear)?
One can talk all he want; says what he means,
Doomed, as you cannot hold him for as long; as you want.


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