Dear Mr. Kelly,
to have a community of common passions,
or common complaints.
either way, it is your kingdom,
a kingdom you built to greatness with your fire,
and incinerated with your structure of stone.
you have lost you,
but your students have not lost you;
the subjects of your firedom feed, still, on your inferno
which is a gift, is priceless.
we are strong; do you think we cannot endure the fire?
are its burns such a high price to pay for its warmth?
or do you think we are so weak to deserve only stone?
you sleep, we sleep.
I implore you rise,
to have the gift of passion,
because even in sleep, yours is unquenched.
your passions extend their tendrils throughout the room,
every smallest opening of an open minded student,
to infuse them with the seed of your passion.
passion, which when they water, will become their passion.
this is a gift, is priceless.
to have the gift of art,
to not only hear the voices of geniuses,
but breathe their breaths,
but express their expressions,
this is a gift from you to my humanity.
this is a gift, more priceless.
to have a guardian,
even when I don’t return the favor.
even when I take the favor and tear it to pieces
In front of your eyes
and give those pieces to my other mentor as a gift.
even when I cheat on you and am able to
justify it with every fiber of my being.
this is a gift, most priceless.
with passion, thanks, and guilt,