The World of Ideas

Well, hello there, my material one! You know — take all of it, if you like. The empty yapping, the fuss and bustle, sophistry's eternal, banal blather. It may be ornate, coated in wax… But, … there's not an inch of depth. It's flat. Well, you know it all better than anyone! You can't put success and successfulness in one row. Just as what's useful won't go reaching for seconds. Let him pay who raises the stakes. In yours the notions that matter are: heat-resistant, a good chair, or at a pinch a bench, the grass trimmed and free of fag ends, and petrol handed out for free at the pumps. But what, in essence, do you want from them? Love? Trust? Come on, brother, you're nuts… You say, give up a little power… But, my real one, I'm just the fruit of their passion, a cocktail of lust and "righteous" living, Of centuries unlettered, and then once more forgotten the wisdom granted only to the few… Do you remember how we first met on the road? Not him with one of us, but you and me… He was walking alone, and sort of homeward. Though we both knew that he himself was that little hut. Just remember how good it felt, bro! The soul like a warm, soft blanket, and coffee… And he kept on walking, and seemed not to give a damn about all the words, about the noise from the tavern… He knew for sure and smiled — in him two worlds had met…