How Many Answers To The Same Questions?

In all that we know we will never know.
the ways of women are wild.
Piqueing at blunder, peeking at wonders
clear direction delicately certain
Ever beguiling without hardly trying
Never beguiled by blandishments mild.

Perplexed teachers reaching, preaching of knowledge,
knowing that few parents care;
the date and the time and place say it all,
for your name is yet inscribed upon the ultimate wall.

What you do speaks so loudly that no one can care
what you force us to hear; what you need to share.
What you do tells us, no need to remind us,
grinding a binding of how you might charm us.
Your actions can match the clash of your words,
where developing worlds get cursed for the worst.

The only thing written in the sands of time,
that climb higher than vanity's flightless harm,
is the still-growing knowing that the sun will rise,
that champions and leaders still rise and shine.
All that you say and all that you do,
too often are cancelled by neutral mistruths