Strange to know nothing, never to be sureOf what is true or right or real,But forced to qualify or so I feel,Or Well, it does seem so:Someone must know.Strange to be ignorant of the way things work:Their skill at finding what they need,Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed,And willingness to change;Yes, it is strange,Even to wear such knowledge–for our fleshSurrounds us with its own decisions–and yet spend all our life on imprecisions,That when we start to dieHave no idea why.

Strange to know nothing, never to be sureOf what is true or right or real,But forced to qualify or so I feel,Or Well, it does seem so:Someone must know.Strange to be ignorant of the way things work:Their skill at finding what they need,Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed,And willingness to change;Yes, it is strange,Even to wear such knowledge–for our fleshSurrounds us with its own decisions–and yet spend all our life on imprecisions,That when we start to dieHave no idea why.

– Philip Larkin –

The Whitsun Weddings

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