He crouched in front of all his books, <br />ten thousand and a few <br />he looked at his certificates <br />one hundred, none were new. <br />Remembered all his special honours <br />bestowed by envious peers <br />and wondered silently inside <br />was it just smoke and mirrors? <br />Sat on the floor, the crouching hurt <br />and cried a bit, alone <br />it was a shock when it occurred <br />to him that in his bone <br />a nasty parasite had lodged <br />who had an appetite <br />for living tissue as it dodged <br />the killer cells with spite. <br />What a caressing devastation <br />to find that all one knows <br />means nothing in the scheme of things <br />and that it simply shows <br />we humans, dumb and arrogant <br />pretend because we must <br />and turn into a sycophant <br />in desperado frust <br />So Papa started with the first <br />of all the hardbound works <br />and re-awakened his old thirst <br />and thought perhaps there lurks <br />the answer to his desperate plea <br />if not he would be doomed. <br />For many weeks he was engrossed <br />with all his dearest friends <br />he often wandered, became lost <br />and tied up old loose ends. <br />The memories of high school days <br />and then the cruel studies <br />came flooding back with old Hooray's <br />and like a bunch of buddies <br />the authors of so many books <br />who'd passed so long ago <br />had kept their bright and brilliant looks <br />and smiled their stern Hello. <br />And finally, he knew the answer <br />not one of them had lived <br />and many had succumbed to cancer <br />they would have been quite miffed <br />that all their learnings was no use <br />and even frank denial <br />was killing that great golden goose <br />with liquid from a vial. <br />He saw and welcomed his own end <br />stood up and tugged his tie <br />remembering every single friend <br />he then laid down to die.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/answers-3/
