If we pass into the Platonic cave
there’s no good chance they’ll want to hear a word.
Each denizen would rather be a slave
than ever recognize just how absurd
is gazing at reflections on the wall;
instead they remain blindly in the herd
uncaring about what might then befall
to each chained inmate of that obscure hell,
for no place outside means a thing at all.
What message, be it loud as a church bell,
could penetrate as deep, or just as far,
to open their hard ears, or even spell
true wisdom? Their minds are at war
with every honest vision beneath star.
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