The university students sit in the confines of their desks, heads square and cornered, mere boxes for the minds they are so willingly locking away. They line up their thoughts in this cell, force one of the prisoners towards the gap of their lips. “You,” they say, selecting one carefully, as though they are doing it a great service in setting it free. But there is no liberty in the timid thought. He has been prisoner too long; he has lost his spirit. He has been locked away, made presentable, tamed before his release.
Abide (by the Law), they tell the thoughts. No lawbreakers permitted through these lips. The rest of you, to the corners, the dark corners of this mind. No glimpsing at the world through those window eyes, lest someone on the outside sense your presence. Back against the wall, into the shadows.
Who first contrived this factory of the mind?
Molding, shaping great “thinkers” on a mass assembly line?
Why — the world has produced great men before. All that is needed is a standard!
These products of institutions are not fit to change the world, they who have so readily allowed the world to change them.
And the prayer,
in thought’s despair,
goes like this: Where has the individual gone?
This creature that dared to don the name of Education has bloodied its hands…
The university students sit in the confines of their desks, participants in this genocide. They have been told they are securing for mankind the perfect minds, thoughts that are supreme — pure.
I sit in the back of the room, lips primed with a silent fugitive.