Mr. Infallible and the Plague of Other People

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.

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