Why I'm a Hermit (Poem)
Updated: 5 days ago
(For an article that expands on the hermit subject, click here)
Before attaining philosopher-hood,
I have sympathized with the antagonists of fiction,
Those who had the ability to alter the course of the world,
And thus were a force to be reckoned with,
And beat them, due to cliché.
One day I came to my former master
And told him of my desire to change the world,
As it is too wrong, too dysfunctional,
In response I was given the thesis of Epictetus:
That there are things within our control -- and beyond,
And thus -- the latter are not of our concern.
In short, reality has taught me that I cannot change the world,
For its force far exceeds mine,
Or disappear, completely or strongly.
I cannot change the world,
And not even a certain girl's heart,
Whom once I knew,
So what is the point, then, in fighting
A battle where the odds are against you?
In reality, there are no minions, no superpowers,
Rarely any ultra-rich with private armies,
Nor doomsday devices,
At the disposal of the realistic antagonist,
All you have is some money, a computer
And maybe an apartment to live and sleep in.
You get a powerbase,
Beyond the basically.
As the conqueror inside me is disappointed,
When facing the burden of reality,
Philosocom will be my base of operations,
My "evil lair",
Where all I can do,
Is to provide my thoughts,
Those who are influenced are them,
Are beyond my control as well.
This is maturity.
And as long as I don't have an army of minions and maybe a nuclear device,
(So-to-speak, metaphorically of course)
I want to remain in hermitage,
For the mature one does not fight a war
He/she is surely to lose in.
I had a fleet of airships once,
Hundreds by the number,
But they were all be put out of commission,
I had enough of being hurt
Even simply, for expressing,
The fact that I exist,
So I become a hermit,
And thus in that way I might consist.
Maybe, just maybe,
If I had more control,
Over myself, over the received influence from others,
Over the alternation of communication with others,
I wouldn't be such a hermit,
Who is just waiting for his elder years to come,
And perhaps write a few philosophical articles,
Throughout the silent, desolate way.
Thus, if you want to avoid hermit-dom,
By social skills, by attraction, connections, and by luxury,
All of which I might not have,
And (might as well) never will,
For all I want now, if not permanently,
Those who have the formers,
Should welcome the burden of
Stress, worry and anxiety,
Just to sense a bit of power,
That is beyond their own property.
(2023 Added Verses):
But now I realized,
That a hermit's worth is compromised,
Because as long as he will be deemed unimportant,
His legacy to humanity can be undermined as well.
So, in order to avoid that biased fate,
I have no choice but to bury my hermit-dom with hate.
Being irrelevant, is a thought I carried with much distaste.
With my increasing fame,
My former love have faced the truth.
For saying that "I'm just too irrelevant",
Apathetically, she declared.
No empathy, no remorse,
Now, I just have,
To suffer life and work,
Suffer, and stay on course.
Now I am asthmatic,
It is far from fantastic.
To my craft, I am a fanatic,
All I am left is to build an empire,
And grow it bigger.
For taking away my future,
My happiness, so I could survive,
Those who appointed themselves my repressors,
By my ability, to thrive.
By my success they will be left,
With their past locked away,
And in vengeance,