I think I know what they
Will say
The intellectuals and professors

They see through everything
Except how they themselves
Are the aggressors

Elitism is a foolish thing
Even if you love to learn

Better to bring your bookishness
To the troubles that boil and
                       burn

They don't believe in gods or God
Just like they don't believe in
                      fairies

No need to convince them
Is there, Mother Mary?

What dreams indeed may come
When we enter and leave
          The large library?

And what are those sightings
In the sky all light and airy?

         Wondrous Strange?
          Wondrous Scary?