Those unable to think abstractly,
Will hate abstractly, because feeling needs a place to go.
What is the abstract? It is emotion knowing—when we don’t really know.
We think with our feelings, sometimes matter-of-factly,
When the mundane thing must be done,
But daring insights, when we fly close to the truth, or the sun,
Turn our feelings into thoughts. We triumph in the mind,
As thoughts become feelings, when music, both beautiful and blind,
Narrows pleasure by increasing it.
Look at this poetry. It is music.
But those with no insights can only abstractly be abstract,
Can only feel the frustration of feeling, or examine dully the dull fact.
Abstraction is ubiquitous—because partial information
Belongs to expert, child, intoxicant—drunk in death, or elation.
The rush to hate abstractly appalls us. Will all the women hate all the men?
The whole society becomes infected. Madness. War. Here it comes again.
Remember, there is always a reason. Reason can and will understand hate,
Even when it’s directed at innocent you. Let’s go. It’s not too late.