Education

to saint petersburg high school (a devil green)

The twisting tunnels are stained with
Memory; hidden are those thoughts –
Where a lost life and life lost meet,
And tell tales of their unknown futures.

Dreams are suspended, when, hands worn (young!)
Unlock secrets encased in steel . . .

3 – 7 – 13, the combination goes.

Tomes of knowledge, lo! What a
Strange hiding place for futures, when
The world can be chosen from a zippered bag.

Then the crowds swell, their faces bright
With (joy? sadness? loss? freedom?) as
Their lives intermingle, a common denominator
Found. (What is that shadow
With radio in hand? Why do I fear
The yellowed parchment so?)
Child, you are beckoned, and
Eyes widen: bewilderment. For here,
Small, insignificant, is a ledger.

What? – I see only letters.

Why, there are the yarns of Fate!

Mother measured, Teacher cut ...

The threads: they are mine.

"Son," they whisper, "Son,
"Spin thy thread."

And, when I looked over my shoulder:
The black gowns, the airborne caps,
The scrolls – all waved, all beckoned.
I have forgotten something ...
No, it was left behind.

I wondered how
The tolling of a bell could create
Destiny, when
(Pen in hand, mightier than a sword!)
Every minute I sat, daydreaming,
A chapter was unwritten.

Yes, they taught me life,
But I never learned how to live it.

© Copyright 2000 — 2010 Jeremy Likness. All Rights Reserved.