Strange to know nothing, never to be sure <br />Of what is true or right or real, <br />But forced to qualify or so I feel, <br />Or Well, it does seem so: <br />Someone must know. <br /> <br />Strange to be ignorant of the way things work: <br />Their skill at finding what they need, <br />Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed, <br />And willingness to change; <br />Yes, it is strange, <br /> <br />Even to wear such knowledge - for our flesh <br />Surrounds us with its own decisions - <br />And yet spend all our life on imprecisions, <br />That when we start to die <br />Have no idea why.<br /><br />Philip Larkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ignorance/
