No One Hopes to Get It Wrong

There’s no philosophy isn’t
A kind of pleading, kind of prayer,
Even begging nothing answers

To ascertain there’s nothing there,
To show that nothing’s answering,
Even the driest assessment

Is partly pleading to be right.
You know, you only need to know,
To be right to each other, right?

Pretty soon you won’t be bothered,
But for right now you’re at the shrine
Everyone visits, furtively

Maybe, but still wanting to be
Seen begging at the shrine of right.