Anatomy of the Sage

They placed my seat by a street corner.
Cars and wreckage, fast and fatal drove by my teacher.
They taught me,
they knew how to educate me and I merely watched as metal reproduced a sun’s fulgent development for just a second as they came to pass.
Methods capsized by those who lack the talent,
the seemingly stupid were then proven to be intentional and just as impressive, just as renowned as those who came before them,
and metal would be burnt by my destructive tendencies as my palm touched the cheekbone and my hands would shake and ache,
the impact was completely necessary by my standards and cogent.
There’s a soaked novel on the road and torn up newspaper shreds,
yesterday’s lonely remainder blown across the saddest scenery,
the coldest cheekbone,
and I cannot keep my eyes from wandering away.
I wanted to lose track of the encounter,
the lonely humor represented by naturewhere just one tree breaks and the bark becomes weak and no longer strong and the leafs left the shade.
Unamazed by the unimpressive and cruely characterized defeat we preserved there,
I threw my body for the concrete and begged to be put down.