The professor pompously speaks his formulae;

Yet, he does not understand it.

He, rather, performs by rote his routine

A show, an ethos,—cries out foul on the students

Who do not trust him to give them the answers.

He fools millions, yet we understand it because a computer told us.

The mystery of this invention,

That what it says must be divine rite,

The professor uses it as an example

To teach, but he does not know what he teaches.

The Academy men sought out wisdom.

Our modern Academy, men remember what was wise

But becomes as vacuous as an empty vessel.

For, to have knowledge without understanding

Is a kind of sin we have passed down through our generations.

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