Years from now, when I am dead,
There will be the great scholars all to whom
Will sit around in their impressive libraries
Feeding their fat bellies wondering and pondering
Over the words of my youth
Asking of each other the meaning of each of my literary terms.
They will in turn ask their eager young students
To reach for new concepts not yet reflected upon by previous generations,
And oh I say to you, misguided youth,
Do not listen to these groveling old busy bodies.
They were once like you and yet they failed to reach their dreams.
There will be that one clever student amongst you,
The one that will please his elders and will grasp the idea
That they so desperately needed,
Only to one day realize that he, himself, has become another lonely educated scholar
Educated in really nothing,
Except another person’s dream.
October 2005 Erica M. Kadrmas