In a very distant city
In some un-noteworthy land
There stood a shabby little shack
Which housed the one all-knowing man.
The man was very happy
Because he knew how to be so,
Yet he had a common problem
And away it would not go.
The problem he experienced
Was, despite his knowing all
The people who surrounded him
Would never heed his call.
A wolf would eat a neighbor,
A child would lose its way;
To the second he’d predict these
Yet the man still had no say.
He knew of no solution
And, knowing all, he knew no hope
So he lived a life of nothing
As a shack-dwelling all-knowing dope.
Yet the answer to his problems
Had been with him all along.
‘Twas the one thing he could not accept…
That, maybe, he was wrong.
The Daily Travesty 