In the quiet gathering in of night
I thought.
In between the waves of tiredness
I dwelt upon the history
of ideas
of human thought
Stretched out like effervescent waves
fading out of sight.
All of them
with one tired sweep
would dissipate!
Their going having scant impact
on how I lived my life.

Now I know
A thousand voices in shrill chorus
will erupt
In defense of human history
And the wealth of human thought.
And yes I know the very language
with which I labour to express
is honed upon experience
The fruits of conquests and distress.
And I can hear the arguments
That one can't help but be exposed
To the transmutating powers
of the fruits of modern life.
But think!