Knowledge

I have breathed this air.
I have loved whom I have loved.
I know what I know.
I, too, have thought vague philosophies,
dreamed silly dreams,
wondered silently
some things that did not fit in words,
hunches that never materialized.
I have done what I could.
Haven’t I? Or is it
I never tried, not really:
was it a blessing or a curse, that
I never had to give my all?
That nothing prevented me
from doing so
but lack of its necessity….
The more I discover about myself,
the more I find out
about this world of ours,
I keep thinking about Socrates’
words, when he said,
“All I know is that I know nothing.”
And I go back
to the silence, think to myself
he couldn’t possibly
have meant it like I imagine.
All that I have lived:
so much closer to naught
than to conceive it comprehends
even a single moment of the world.