"A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death."

WB Yeats, 'An Irish Airman Foresees His Death'

 

Philosophy or poetry?

Let's kick this football around a bit. 

Plato preferred philosophy,

As he would, being a philosopher.

He thought poets were mad, he may have a point.

Poets, of course, are liars by profession,

So, when I say I prefer philosophy, you'll know

I have my fingers-crossed and am thinking of Keats

Saying that philosophy will clip an angel's wing.

Poets endeavour to give an air of truth

To airy nothings. And truth is beauty.

Poets, like children, personify ideas

Giving shape to airy nothings

Through extended metaphor and conceit

Poets imagine in more than the three dimensions

Time is the fourth dimension

And poets stop the clocks.

Create a golden age: an Arcadia, 

Bewilder’d by poetic speculations.

Philosophers retreat into Plato’s republic of ideal forms.

While poets seek to catch the wind in words

Unafraid of being thought absurd.

Plato thinks each effect has a single, discernible cause

Poets disagree

Post a  cacophony of inequality

AS this poem may, very likely, be.