Thomas

 

He was tall and lean,

only twenty-two,

but his eyes looked so old and tired,

his voice was calm and steady,

never raised his tone,

didn't let it explode with emotion

as we sat it the lobby together,

two applicants applying for work.

 

Slowly his saga unfolded

while we passed the wait time.

There he was,

graduated High School at twelve,

possessed two doctorates by the time

that he had been eighteen and spoke seven languages,

should have been a professor somewhere,

instead of trying to apply

for some clerical job.

 

But his flame had burned too bright to fast,

plaudits and prophecies

predicted his zenith in brilliance

with an expectation he would become

some future Einstein in one of many fields.

 

Only they couldn’t predict the heart

or in his inward collapse from stress and pressure.

It left him scarred and confused,

a vagabond to academia

just struggling to try and find some job,

any position to earn a living.

 

Neither of us got hired that day,

I went home to watch television and check more ads,

no doubt he went back to some profound ponderings

while trying to find the exit

from this labyrinth in reality

where his genius had been trapped.