THE MAD PROFESSOR

Schools of thoughts
Pure liquid children of the mind
Pupils dilating and students relaxing
Shapeless shaping up
Solidifying
Schooled beyond his fiftysome years
Too much between his ears
Grey hair around his temples
He calls it the exiled greymatter
Sticking out like steelwires
As of the moment he has no first or last name
Absent-minded is his middle name
He sees figures, diagrams and what have you nots
Most not in any notes
Floating around in the fourth state of matter
Equal signs and inequalities
Here and there in between this and that
Moving darkness set upon by focused light
Illuminating the unknown inside the known
This is just a dark corner inside his circular mind
The professor has welcomed madness into his life
How could he not when it welcomed him first?
Thinking around the same lines of thoughts got boring
First he divided the lines
Letting them intersect
He twisted and contorted his reasoning
The conventional was sent packing
Fantasy and imagination set camp
Planes of thought flew around in the skies of his mind
Passing each other by the breadth of a hair
Snatching gasps and raspy breaths from his lungs
Exhilarating!
He lectures four classes in a day
Three days in a week
Two universities
Of late he’s been feeling like two people
The person inside his mind who sees things humans forbid themselves
Then there is the usual absent minded professor
Bringing a smile or two to his students faces
Most times they don’t know what they are smiling about
What he talks about
What if they had a sneak peek inside just a small part of his mind
Where the other him exists
Thinking the unthought of and the unthinkable
Later on writing down his findings
Most nights accompanying the dark
Travelling towards the house of dawn
Eyes concentrated behind large framed glasses
As if trying to see through the dancing darkness in his mind