Memory paints poor pictures

It has often been said, the best teachers leave their students. Often, it has been felt, the leaving is premature.
It was the same with you.

Had you been there, we often recall in sorrow, you would have known. Because the world has distaste for us. Because the world despises us. Because the world is cold and closed. Because you were the opposite of the sum of these: accepting, understanding, the open one who was gracious with knowledge that surpassed us.

But you have gone.

No word. No place to send off questions. No offer for further guidance.
Just the spirit of a feeling of the knowledge you passed down. Just a ghost in our creativity, just a spectre in our challenging, just a spirit in our imagination of you.
Nothing more.

In the years that passed, we were guided by others - others without direction, with closed minds, with hearts of this world. Past the spheres of their influence, the ghosts of their lies and deceit travel far and wide. Past the realm of their knowledge, the spectres of their criticisms stand, hard-faced and malicious. Past the point of reasoning, the voices of their claims echo. Echo. Echo.

Against walls of logic, against swells of wisdom, against all odds. They echo.
And the spirit of the vision we had of you floats by. And the depths of saddness penetrate us. And the hollow sense of being alone reminds us that these ghosts, these spectres are the final word.

Reminds us always that you have gone for good.

Memory creates clever crafts

Of the others: what becomes of them? What other mayhem can they cause? What dust, what filth will they uncover in what other worlds they have passed to?
What havoc will they reap.

In our arguements, they have been the antitheses. In our plots, they - the antagonists. In our wars, the enemies.
They are rust that destroys, the moth that decays, the theives that break in and steal the treasures of this world.

And yet, they go on teaching their vile ways, teaching their ignorant criticism, teaching their deceptive schemes, executing the brilliant minds of the future. Stifling the imagination in a wake of education.

But, perhaps, those of us who think of them will epitomize them as the failures, the liars, the death-dealers they have shown themselves to be. And for the remainder of days they will be the testiment of evil to the coming generations.

And their names will not be forgotten.