Molehill

Of little things.

Oh what fools these mortals be,
That think a mountain is a tree,
And miss the truth that they are told,
Thinking lead be made of gold.

Oh what fools these mortals be,
Who think a thief resides in me.
From me my secret heart do steal
Acting the while that I don’t feel.

Oh what fools these mortals be,
Who all have eyes but cannot see,
The truth that before them lies,
They take for offal engulfed in flies.

Oh what fools these mortals be,
On gods’ errands though they flee,
And never once consider lost,
Their honor though’t be tempest tossed.

Oh what fools we mortals be,
Who think a mountain is a tree,
And disregard the truth we’re told,
All the while it is lead not gold.

Image from Philosophy Blog.

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