Bookworm asked the street smart,
With bag of tricks everyday you embark,
What if you were placed?
With the assorted intellects?
A beguiler, a fish out of water, do you feel disgraced?
For your smarts do not recall the dialects,
The wisdom and intelligence calls.
In which lexicon, asks he,
Did tricks give intelligence pedigree,
For learning that comes with knowledge,
Wisdom with toil,
Leading to higher perceptions,
Where your tricks retreat and recoil.
Where are the virtues, asks he,
For the principles, learning, that begets intelligence,
Worth a pot of gold and the endless sky,
Your bag of tricks cheat and belie.
What is your purpose, asks he,
So to understand and not reprimand,
Are you just happy to be in demand?
For true emotions and bonds,
Your mind does not permit,
Skimming through the surface of the pond,
Is all of your life a series of hoax and gimmicks?
Then arose a question, of the street smart,
What if everything were lost,
And company of elite no more to boast,
Everyday felt like a fried toast,
With intellect alone will you still make the most?
Answered the bookworm,
If everything were lost, knowledge can’t be snatched,
Building an edifice with meaning and thought,
Learning paved a path to follow what’s right,
In the hour of mayhem, values do not sacrifice,
The core is the strength that has battles fought,
With valor, honor, and a host of virtues, like the golden ingot
Leading to multi-fold avenues,
That bring pride and honor in a state of dire straits,
This is what I implicate.
What if your loved one was in despair,
And all you have is virtues to repair,
For they take time,
Is your loved one worth a dime?
For you have virtues to care for.
The world full of mixed nuts,
Listens not to your rigmarole,
Caring and bonds come not through intellect,
For they stand the test of time singing through elegies and caroles,
With bag of tricks you beget,
A savior when time is running thin,
With long awaited virtues they could lead to ruin.
Virtues, he said, are time tested,
For fools do not rush,
As pride and honor saves the day,
With years of trust you built surplus.
Good thinking to create, tricks are to cheat,
Aftermaths of which ain’t very sweet,
But for a trickster, the ambrosia of honor, far-fetched,
For he not knows or has tasted it yet,
For go by with deceit and tricks,
Intelligence for fooling is not a treat.