Upon Looking at the Sky

I arched my neck to look at the sky,
Which was a mistake because I have a bad back.
The pain was more than equal to the pleasure.
Actually, there wasn't much pleasure at all,
Besides that masochistic pleasure which all aging men feel
When their bodies begin to wither.
That pleasure which speaks of wisdom
And intellectual and spiritual growth.
I am quick to disregard those pleasures.
Give me the full expanse of clear blue sky,
The roaring ocean which I might frolic in like a child,
The great view from the mountain top,
Which my own strong legs have allowed me to reach.
Take away wisdom, and what are you left with?
Only beauty, and grace, and the wondrous foolish knowledge
Of freedom.