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"Something is, or it's not-there's no median" -
Simple falsehood! said Plato, Athenian.
When a man spouts this dictum,
We're forced to evict him:
Let's just kick him right off the proscenium!
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Thus "Being admits of degrees"
Was among the Platonic decrees.
What mere sense makes apparent
At most has a share in't;
But it's never as real as you please.
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Thus consider, for clarity's sake,
Shaping rings, and the shape they then take:
What we've made is material,
But their shape-that's ethereal-
Since it's rings, not their shape, humans make.
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On the theory that Plato deployed,
In itself, all of matter's mere Void.
When there's more that we're seeing:
That's its brush with Real Being-
Which affects it, yet stays unalloyed.
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We're mere prisoners; our bodies are cells
Fell from Heaven, yet why no one tells.
Only one thing is sure:
If our lives have been pure,
We'll go home after hearing death's knells.
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Only love for Platonic Ideals:
By its nature, that's all a soul feels.
But once it's been jailed,
It's of course soon assailed
By a gang of less lofty appeals.
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Still, for those who'd regain their high station,
There's just one way-that's ratiocination:
If we let more attract us
Than rational practice,
We'll be bumped from return aviation.
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In any case, journey's inception
Is the data received through perception.
But that's only a start, of course,
Since our aim is to chart a course
To the Forms of which they're a reflection.
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Our senses at most should remind us
Of a vision of Truth far behind us.
But were we more keen
Just on "making the scene,"
Then whatever we've seen will just blind us.
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Please don't think, though, if that's Platonistic,
Life's made drabber than faded old lipstick.
On Plato's itinerary,
Mere Logic's preliminary:
So once passed, we can still play the mystic.
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To be sure, though it's mere prolegomenon,
There's some Good in each natural phenomenon.
But that's only a clue,
And of course wouldn't do
When we're trying to turn a real brahman on.
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Still, philosophers shouldn't just stare,
Once The Good's seen all naked and bare.
Since-not dead-they're still human,
They should use their acumen
To take charge of Society's care.
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In fact, though, there's bound to be pain,
Coming back to mere shadows again.
So why seek the "cave,"
And remain till their grave,
Once they've been in that higher domain?
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For Plato, Society's plan
Picks one path for each woman and man.
If your wishes are contrary-
You'll just get what you want rarely:
What you'll do is just what you best can.
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Well, let’s hope-to give Plato some flak-
That he's at least been There and back.
For if not, who's to rule
In that very first school,
Where we're told what we have or we lack?!
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In the book of which Plato's authorial,
True Being is quite incorporeal
But while matter falls short
Of what's actual tout court,
It's not null, but at least somewhat more real.
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What's more real, on the Platonist's menu,
Has its home in more heavenly venue.
Only stars in this firmament
Lend a meaning that's permanent
To whatever sensations might send you.
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What things are, then (say, squarish or round),
Has an extra-terrestrial ground.
As if hitched to a star,
All things are what they are
Just because they're thus heavenly bound.
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Whether most will agree, then-or few will
All of matter is basically dual.
But now what about us,
Who can know things are thus
What are we on Platonic construal?
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But for most-maybe eight out of nine-
Merely sensual living seems fine.
What they maybe don't know
Is that, after they go,
They're just apt to come back as mere swine.
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Thus a soul, somehow fallen and blighted,
Might let more than one impetus guide it.
To seek Wisdom's just one-
But now Fame, and sheer Fun,
Join the list of the things that excite it.
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On the other hand-no point denying,
It takes time to get ready for flying:
Though to say it's to rue it,
There are few who can do it
Without several times living and dying.
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From the very first things we cognize,
We'll perceive how our souls start to rise.
But we'll soon start to sink
if, instead of to think,
We're content when we're feasting our eyes.
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Thus salvation from earthly confinements
Needs more study of Reason's refinements.
To reach heavenly altitude?
Only those will learn how to do't
Who "get off" on their Logic assignments.
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It's the Good-on the way Plato told it-
That's the Source from which Truth is unfolded.
But as source of all light,
In itself it's too bright
To let all but a handful behold it.
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To hear Platonists spiel the oration,
Things all strive for amelioration.
But The Good yields direction
That's still short of perfection,
When it's seen through the veil of sensation.
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Thus the view for which Plato's renowned-
The Philosophers all should be crowned.
The Philosopher-King:
What a wonderful thing!
(If they only would stay on the ground!)
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The answer-so goes Plato's wisdom-
Is found in a circular system:
If they're bred by society,
Then there's perfect propriety
In our claiming the right to enlist'm.
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Thus testing will give indication
Of the ones bound for high education.
The rest are then routed,
Insofar as they're suited,
To (a) Army, or (b) skilled vocation.
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In any case, kudos are due
To this thinker who thinks as few do:
Whatever his merit,
At least he's no parrot
(And, what's more, gives us crackers to chew).
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