Eleusis

In silence is the seed of wisdom sown.
In contemplation is the seedling grown.
In patience does the tender plant strike root:
In time’s own fullness will it bear its fruit.

For wisdom is, as fools will come to know,
The trophy of the patient and the slow:
For never yet has wisdom had to dash
To serve the fleeting purpose of the rash.

Know this: that though the stars fall from the sky;
Though mountains sink, and all the seas run dry;
Yet though the moon and sun shall stay their course:
There’s nothing can the pace of wisdom force.

For wisdom’s the hiatus of the dead:
It is the rumpled linen on the bed;
The realisation when the game is up;
The droplet at the bottom of the cup.

And when at last there’s nothing left to say
And truculence and haste have had their way
And bombast and impatience claim their own:
In silence is the seed of wisdom sown.

Ian Clark
2004, 2018