The Path Poem by Edmund V. Strolis

How dull it seems the haughty bellows of philosophers and kings.
Or the bishops preaching sermons, flashing grins and gaudy rings.

I would rather hear a blacksmith's hammer than to hear such twaddled yap.
For the only blessing he can offer is the promise of a nap.

To my wits I will trust my days, not to another mans straw house views.
Never selling cheap the wisdom earned by wearing another souls shoes.

So sing your song with bursting pride, sing it loud and sing it clear.
Let it shatter all the eternal walls and your ancestors they will hear.

The voice of one deemed worthy that has grasped the truth at last.
Standing tall in constant tribute to those who have paved this path.