Encased in ivory walls that stretch up high,
That hide most sight of land, and much of sky,
They think them safe from those who would decry
The efforts of the mind--but they are fools
Who reck not that they make the very tools
That turn against them often, or the fuels
That feed the flames of hate they won’t oppose
For fear of being seen as trampling toes
Or worse--as seems the Stupid God well knows.
Many linger long to enter there;
They know not the danger or don’t care,
Thinking each it will be they the system spares,
When they see hundreds of their fellows fail,
Their papers paving a winding, fading trail.
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