Lecture Hall

A Poem by Marshall

There's the whisper of reasoning
skies eyed for answers dripping down
each pencil pointed at that pinnacle
where the recent lecture sits
awaiting dissection into assignments
for next weeks five thousand word essays.

I marvel at this resilience to learn
to stumble upon grand new theories
of emerging technologies and the world beyond.

I ask some quiet questions
what do you want to be?

Sadly most of them want to stalk Einstein
without working for it
Some want a ladder to the Fortune 500
others just want those two extra marks
to climb over the paddock fence of education
to a trench board, tassels and a degree
a job and free airline tickets
to strange destinations untraveled.
Only one quiet girl (with braces and a beautiful smile)
wants the assignment sheet. Others treat it like leprosy.

The day closes with her dream
intact. She will rise with the dawn.
Her brain sizzling with solutions
hair unkempt
her manners polished with progress.

I walk away each day
humbled by the same mould that
produces clones of Bill Gates. Always.