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The way I am.
The way I was.
The time I spent.
The loss of love.
The pointless death.
The hopeless fight.
Yet in the dark
I can see the light.
Another time.
Another place.
A different crime.
The same old face.
I break convention.
Disturb the peace.
I fight complacence.
I face defeat.
An arduous battle.
My lifelong task.
To open eyes
and to cause unrest.
It is not easy
but it's my job.
To help enlighten
and fight the mobs.
They call me different.
They call me odd.
I call them ignorant.
They think they're gods.
I try to help them.
It never fails.
They never listen.
It seems unreal.
I offer truth and
I dry their tears.
They ridicule me.
It seems so clear.
They can't understand
or at least won't.
I offer my hand.
They rend my soul.
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If this funeral eulogy reached his [Socrates'] ears, I wonder how he would feel being compared to a savior? But then again, this poems not just about him is it?
Socrates sits among the highest seats of my opinion. I could not ignore a poem named after him. And I like how this poem can be connected not only to Socrates, but also to any number of philosophers, scientists, and prophets.
