When The Legacy Dies

To the Teacher of the Ancient Way.

Who can make a song sing without crying?


Who can truly live life without dying?


Set and reproduce

the anatomy of the truth


And by the height of a tree, tell its root

What is the meaning when a thought leaves you stranded?


Am I the fork in the road or the one who planned it?


Is it better to boldly question or remain in wonder?


Shall my thoughts unite before you or fall asunder?

Was it not here


Where men and women stood on the shoulders of giants that they too might become


Was it not here?

Where bright boys and girls emboldened to be distinguished


Soldiers. Carriers of twofold artillery. 


A Pen and A Purpose.

Inhabitants of this place are required by the struggle of strange fruit.


Rounds of soap whistle down and around hallway corners.


They know their targets well. 


Diffidence is martyred here.


Lost kin realign

Sir, to me you are indeed a mystery


Electric to the water in a garden of youthful minds


Daring children to be stronger


Men and women to grow longer


The Scientist of great FAITH


Runner of the Great Race

Transcending the complex simplicity of real time


You are uniquely incomplete


Your imperfections divine


The ever-willing sufferer of intelligence 


Tried, tested and reviewed for future relevance

Testament to the ideal 


That the law of life is not to conceal, but to challenge 


For truth is oftentimes revealed in the scavenge


We find that what makes one dare is the very reason one is here


Thus, to be painted as brave, one must first outline fear

So we honor you, Teacher, 


Your notes and your armchair. 


And until death is proven
,

Your matter lives on here.