What notice do we seek and wish to attain?
What notoriety is available there to gain?
What earthly reason to be one or both
when philosophers and poets, we similarly roast?
The truth of either is seldom felt or heard
until death’s angel speaks the final word.
Then noisy advocates read aloud
the words and ideas of which we are proud.

So my wise, beloved poetic friends
Is there any way that we can win
the acclaim we seek, while we’re still alive?
Perhaps of us, only words will survive!
I’ll be somewhat glad if that is so,
For then perhaps someone will know
that only with chaotic thought
can eternal recognition be bought.