Poetry by Princess Mazagwu
The Egoist slinks around at night
when they think no one is watching
When they think they don’t have eyes on them
they don’t proceed with caution
They hoard and take and trash and break
a fight to rule by fear
But how many can they rule, pray tell
when so few will come near?
For the Egoist can never find
steadfast satisfaction
Ever bored and bent with ill-intent
they elicit pained reactions
Ingratitude is a plague
that makes them unable to give
But when there’s nothing left to take
what reason left is there to live?
Inspired by the following quote by Andre Comte-Sponville, Professor of philosophy at the Sorbonne (France):
“Aware only of his own satisfactions and his own happiness, hoarding them as a miser hoards his coin . . the egoist cannot be grateful. Ingratitude is not the incapacity to receive but the inability to give back--in the form of joy or love--a little of the joy that was received or experienced. This is why ingratitude is so pervasive a vice. [Ungrateful people] absorb joy as others absorb light, for egoism is a black hole."
