For Kant

Is language the true barrier? Then why don't I write?
If thought is its own pretense, why does it delight?
Who am I to think me changed? The former or the latter?
And why is it so hard to keep myself from scatter?
Is Kant's frame enough or is it too little?
How can I go into this in any great detail?
"Sapere Aude!" he exclaimed,
And are the rest of us condemned?
The categories are our judges,
Juries quick in there to find us,
Human beast or Human being?
What is thought? What is meaning?
Verdict accepted and denied,
On time's anathema's we must glide,
Seeking no substance but our own,
To transcend that we had grown.


On a personal note: grow up, don't grow old.