The Crowd That Thinks

   
The Crowd That Thinks

When honesty is seen as stupid and diligence is seen as vice,
Then what remains for us to say, to those who still might seek advice?
For if we say what we believe in, and with this they then agree,
We know the fates they’ll suffer then—the tortures to the third degree.

So should we then mouth platitudes or tell them what they need to know,
So they can then survive, succeed, by sailing with the winds that blow?
Or should we sadly close our mouths and shake our heads and go away,
As what we see as darkest night is greeted as the dazzling day?

When cynics lead and others follow, in the places Mammon rules,
Then those who aren’t cynics suffer, being seen at best as fools.
And they can pray to Saraswati, sing Athena’s praises, yet,
For all their labor and devotion, we can tell what they will get.

When falsehoods are enthroned as truths, what point is there in more oration,
Proceeding from the lies for which the priests demand our adoration?
It’s better then to flee or fight.  But fighting can’t be done alone.
The revolution comes when each decides to lift and throw the stone.

Oh shatter now the edifices, set afire the palace grounds!
It’s time to wake the crowd that thinks and then proceeds to do its rounds.
Spare the gentle and the weak.  Rouse the humble and the meek.
Let the ones of hubris shudder.  On the cynics, havoc wreak.

Beware of joining, though, the mob that does the work of cynics still.
Obeisance and rebellion both have caused, on Earth, no end of ill.
There are no substitutes for sight, for wisdom, for the heart and head.
When these are there, then sense prevails—and virtue, to success, is wed.

There is a crowd that’s not a mob.  It thinks.  It feels.  It questions too.
There is a crowd of those that do what none of us can singly do.
That’s the crowd that listens, looks—whose words and actions both are slow.
That’s the crowd that rises and that quietly says its “Yes.” and “No.”
   
2015 June 21st, Sat.
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn