Higher Equation

by Peter Saint-Andre

There is no final number
    That can lock down what I'll find,
No clock that sets the slumber
    Of the reason in my mind.

I am not here to function
    For the value of the herd.
What is, pray tell, the function
    Of the highest flying bird?

It's by my depth and measure
    That I weigh my own esteem;
I find my finest pleasure
    In what's real, not how I seem.

(cf. The Joyful Learning, ยงยง116-119)


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Peter Saint-Andre > Writings > Nietzsche > Songs of Zarathustra