Endless Folly

Pope Benedict, XVI

 

 

 

 

Life is a haberdasher selling hats
Hiding blades with fashionable sheaths
The mirror mocks not this one or the other
But the dull-edged mind beneath

Clergy and Kings like birds on the wing
Brave the wind that lifts them high
While back on the ground the church bell rings
As their followers wither and die

This wasn’t my choice, I had no say
This road had already been made
But I’m told to move on with no room to veer
And my life is the toll I pay

Only under repeated pressure of step
Can a path through the meadow be seen
But be of solitude or with legion of peer
You fall alone to your mortal dream

So on my last stumble into the dark
You might pray the light snags my sleeve
But carry on my friends this endless folly
I’m content to take my leave

 

(AP Photo/ Matthew Barrick)

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