The students try so hard to lose their minds.
Their lives become great literature too easily.
Voices echo down dark lecture halls
Proposing solutions for private confusions
Miraculously reproduced in the book.
And whatever dream the work once had of meaning
Had to co-exist with overwhelming experience
Bursting out of its words.
It lives through the breathing
Of what could never be as still as it is,
Curiosity having been killed with kind knowledge,
The gateway to incommensurability,
What can only in the glare be seen as bliss.
