Out of sync with this world
As if I might pulsate out of existence
I see the lecturer
A Greek statue
Rendered gray with antiquity
Sculptured still forever
His features molded
Aging in decay
From the battering element of the air
His head rests on his fist
As he ponders the paradoxes of time
The low rumbling chords of the orator
Echo in monotone over tiers of ears
Awaiting answers that cannot be found
For the wisest of men know
That he who admits he does not know
Is the wisest of them all
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