Ludwig Wittgenstein
Embodying the liar's paradox,
Why did he have to reinvent the wheel?
Unable, he said, to lie or cheat or steal,
Or understand it when a lion talks,
How to construe a language game that mocks
Significance, too scrupulous to feel
That others are indubitably real,
Puzzled the solitary chatterbox.
Ultimate mystery, another's pain
Even the saint that caused it might refuse
To recognize, like a strange native place.
What does it profit anyone to gain
His own imaginary soul, and lose
Forever everything that is the case?
