Sheltered prevail do soul

 

Mind endures a bit

 In boundless dark, where voids expand, 

The fragile mind makes its stand. 

A spark of thought in endless night, 

Holding firm to fleeting light.

Through shifting tides and cosmic gales, 

The mind prevails where chaos trails. 

A rhythmic weave, the strands align, 

A fleeting order, near divine.

Hero time

 The sun-kissed spear, for glory's bright acclaim,

Then civic steel, for empire's steady frame.

A holy sword, where pious purpose shone,

Then reason's torch, where seeds of knowledge sown.

The human heart, that learned to break and bend,

Where justice's voice, did rise and fiercely send.

Now fractured forms, in stories spun anew,

Where common souls, find strength to see us through.

From god-like might, to every weary stride,

The hero's shape, where shifting meanings hide.

Through ages passed, and moments yet to be,

The spirit's dance, where courage sets us free.

Beauty test fornicate itself

 

Reflection of Philosopher-Kings

When Plato envisioned a society governed by philosopher-kings in The Republic, he placed unwavering faith in wisdom as the cornerstone of just governance. To Plato, the wise—those who had ascended beyond the shadows of the cave to perceive the truth—were uniquely qualified to guide society. Yet, my experience as a city clerk in a small rural Midwest town—a position where I sought to apply philosophical principles, particularly the Socratic method of dialogue—revealed a more complex reality, one that Plato himself acknowledged elsewhere.

In The Republic, Plato's idealism seems to underestimate the depth of human attachment to the familiar. But through the Allegory of the Cave, he portrays this attachment with striking clarity. In my town of a thousand souls, where tradition and routine form the bedrock of life, I found that philosophical inquiry—the Socratic questioning of assumptions—was often met with discomfort or even resistance. It threatened the order that the community cherished, much like the escaped philosopher in the cave threatens the comforting play of shadows.

Rather than being welcomed as a path to truth, dialogue and reflection often provoked unease. The Platonic notion that wisdom naturally commands authority faltered; wisdom's demand for introspection and new ways of thinking clashed with the collective desire for stability and predictability. This experience highlighted the emotional and cultural barriers that even Plato recognized in his allegory: the same attachments that keep people in the cave also shape their governance and their receptiveness to philosophical ideas.

What my time as a clerk taught me is that wisdom, particularly in democratic settings, must contend with these deep-seated attachments. Plato may have hoped for philosopher-kings to lead society toward enlightenment, but his allegory reminds us that governance—even when guided by truth—cannot easily sever people from the shadows they hold dear. It must grapple with empathy, patience, and the art of meeting people where they are.

In the end, my experience revealed the tension between the theoretical purity of Platonic governance and the messy, lived reality of democratic decision-making. Philosophy, especially the Socratic method, often disrupts rather than comforts. It sheds light on truth but must also navigate the complexities of human attachment—something Plato understood all too well when he described the cave.

Delight dear one one

 

Prisoners notice

 Bars forged by lessons, welded with repetition.

Books whisper truths, their pages stacking into walls.

Keys hide in corners, their rattle unheard.

We are prisoners, too well-taught to escape.

Head not try entry

 

Scheme to pay

 Through acts of care, we dare repair, 

A world threadbare, yet love can flare. 

The ripples share, in waters rare, 

A kindness where no hearts despair.

Each tender prayer, a guiding heir, 

To light the air, a hope we wear.

Struggle leaf has away

 

I know not

 To see the sea, 

And be what’ll be. 

The more I flee, 

The less I see.

Through mist and gleam, 

Each step a dream. 

A light, a stream, 

The end supreme.

Adapt story tad more

 

Invested hour power

 Time’s ticking talons tear through dawn, 

Frenzied flutters, fleeting and forlorn. 

Sow with purpose, for seconds don’t wait;

Misused youth seals an unyielding fate.

It me fool them

 

Scorch my nights

 

Upon the pallid night there burned, 

A hundred wicks, their fates discerned, 

Each flame a siren, softly singing, 

To wings of gossamer, swiftly winging.

Oh, luring light! Oh, fatal glow! 

Thy warmth belies the sting I know. 

What sweetened doom dost thou bestow, 

Upon the fragile moth laid low?

Yet still I’m drawn, though reason wanes, 

To skies alit with scorching pains. 

So many candles, time so fleet, 

And shadows whisper of defeat.

Still, let me burn, and let me fly, 

If but to taste the blazing sky. 

For in my ruin, I have won - 

To know the fire, before I'm gone.

Unknowable future religion victims

 

Give book made resources

 

Glory looking temporary man

 

Waters purity time one