Modern Philosophy Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Modern philosophy anon
will, at the rate its rushing on,
yoke lightning to the railroad car,
and posting like a shooting star,
swift as solar radiation
ride grand circuit of creation,
roundabout, then, whence it came,
return while questions put the same
remain and answers turn upon
an angel’s pin, yet dwell thereon
with light surface animation
and admission that their station
is set on lines defining fame,
then buckle, useless, end of Game!