Oh, Wittgenstein ‘s writing’s divine.
I wish his thoughts were each mine.
I understand just a few.
But they make me see anew.
I hope my own work will grow fine
Wittgenstein is an artist so true.
He created his meanings for you.
Language was perception.
Or should that say conception?
I’ll leave that decision for you!
He appeals to more artistic minds.
In his work, he gives hints for the blind.
I climbed his ladder up the fence.
What strange happenstance.
I always knew blackbirds were kind
Now the ladder has gone, disappeared.
But no one’s up here, I feel weird
From the fence to the roof.
I discovered a new truth.
Climbing’s not an act to be feared.
If you alter the place where you stand,
You get an alternative view of your land.
New perspectives give us pause.
Don’t be hasty with laws,
Reality will make its own demands.
How my heart sings 