The soul of man has his own chariot
With a driver and two winged horses:
The one eager for honorable praises;
The other intent on becoming corrupt
That only flogging and bawling can quell.
With the driver’s free rein on the mares,
The noble horse goes AWOL,
The ignoble heads dominance,
The chariot loses the control,
All falls from the fantastic race
To the perched land of ignorance,
Then begins the rebirth of the race
Again, and again for ever and ever.
Author’s Note: I remember reading about Plato’s Chariot Allegory that illustrates our journey to the end of enlightenment with its vividly dynamic images of the aerial chariot race too compelling to reserve for a silent appreciation in my mind’s reservoir. I wonder what my chariot race has been like thus far…