Plato's Cavern - Poem by Max Gatrell
Shadows looming in the Cave,
You're not real, but I'm your slave.
Forced I am to stare at thee,
Jailer Jailer set me free.
Shackles strain across my throat,
Anchored solid like a boat.
Locked inside this wretched lair,
Bonded tightly to a chair.
How I long to leave this pit,
I beg of thee manumit.
Hence I sit and shadow gaze,
My sight's distorted by the haze.
Echoes are the only sound,
Noise in truth cannot be found.
Even music isn't clear,
With that ringing in my ear.
Conversations are concise,
When we’re stifled by the vice.
I could easily break the bind,
Since this fetter is my mind.
I yearn to ascend towards the light,
Behold the truth that shines so bright.
Though blinded will it render me,
This iridescent liberty.
Those who glimpse are always returned,
To speak of wonders they have learned.
Can't be described, for it has to be seen,
The truth that dwells behind the screen.
We know these shadows are not real,
Yet here we sit and watch them still.
Dimmed by reason not insight,
Natives of an endless night.
But we can rise above this state,
To see the light is our fate.
Thus we finally break the spell,
And escape this Cave that is our Hell.
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