Sifting The Ashes Of Burning Blinkers - Poem by Cher Easel'igher
When you reach the fifth level
Of intellectual excellence
Will you still talk to the fourth?
Will you trust the sixth to teach, unbiased?
Will the third be the realm of the turd?
Will you keep close to hand
Those whose books you desire
While you burn all the ones you have read?
Does compassion subside as the IQ gets higher
If it does, then I’d rather be dead.
(c) Danny Reynolds
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