We long for truth but seek it in illusion
expecting to find it in another’s heart,
finding at last it’s no more than delusion.
Avoiding the mundane world’s complete confusion
perhaps like an eremite set far apart
we long for truth but seek it in illusion.
The prophet knows the way without exclusion
but ends up riding in the tumbril cart
finding at last it’s no more than delusion.
With grace and taste and many a fine allusion
the artist formulates his newest art.
we long for truth but seek it in illusion
The savant predicates a strong conclusion
but fails to sell it in the open mart,
finding at last it’s no more than delusion.
Solutions are offered in a great profusion
brought to us from all or any part --
We long for truth but seek it in illusion,
finding at last it’s no more than delusion.
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I have to admit though that this wasn't really my cup of tea. Abstract philosophical poems very rarely do it for me, unless there's some sort of great hook to make a direct connection with my own life, and I felt that the hook was lacking here. 
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