My barmy spear fell heavily
In Thames’ arms
And your bygone wisdom
Could not catch it
Sunday visitors found it in the bottom
They collected it like a touristic souvenir
Of Wisdom
Better these innocent strangers
that dared to capture my truth
Than my everlasting knowing ones
that could not vow me a lie
I won’t be looking for familiar shores
for my meaningful yesterdays
I will only torture the estuaries
of the infinite today
Purely
Like Wisdom