I’ve seen the bright become dim,
the dim become bright,
and those who were wrong,
one day get it right.
So when you ask me, why try?
Why bother at all?
Why waste your breath—
let the young men fall,
it lights a weathered nerve
idly spinning there,
ready to ignite,
bolstered by the dare.
To serve not a single soul
but a consciousness—
our kinsmen
in need of graciousness,
knowing how easy it is
to let it all go—
to give up on sharing
what we’ve come to know.
And yes, we may fail
to bend every ear,
and teach them to see
what we deem to be clear.
But if we help only one
because we refused to quit?
Well, then it’s proof, yet again,
a mind is not writ.
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