Ambrosia

They bother me,
All those intellectuals.
They want to know
What my words mean.

I think they want
To be the only ones
Who get to know
My secrets.

They want to
Drink from the fountain,
Find the city of gold,
Reach up to the sky.

They want to eat
The food of the Gods,
Learn their language,
Fight and kill them.

Have we no shame
At our blatant ambition?
Asking for the meaning of life;
Angry when no answer comes.

How can they ask me
To define myself?
Explain my words,
Describe God.

What are little boys made of?
What makes them tick?
They always ask me
What I think.

What difference does it make?
What makes my blood flow?
Who cares? Make up your own mind,
And leave me alone.