I’m sick of being chained to this cold rock;
I’m sure you all are just as bored as I,
But here’s my secret: I have picked the lock,
And in a moment, from this cave I’ll fly.
I’m tired of forms that flicker on the walls;
I’m off to find the source of shade and light.
“Philosopher!” – The wider world it calls;
The truth I’m sure is not so black and white.
I’m back! And now I’ll tell you what I saw:
These shifting shadows aren’t reality!
But what! You say my rantings you’ll ignore?
Remind me of my frail mortality?
Perhaps you’re right – I didn’t see the sun;
In any case, you’re many, I’m but one.