Classic Poem

I have no physical need of a chair;
I can double my body anywhere:
A suitable rest is found
Upon a stone or on the ground.
But it is needful that I feed my wit,
With beauty and complexity, even when I sit.
Had I a splendid broad philosophy,
I were high man without complexity.
I'd fling myself on any natural sod
To scan the zenith and remember God.
But it is needful man shall strive
With tortured matter, so to keep alive.
Idle man would never live to age:
He would run mad and die in rage.
When fat accumulations cloy,
War brings her sword to ravage and destroy,
That through the smoke of the consuming real
Man sees a clearer and more sure ideal.