He crouched in front of all his books, br ten thousand and a few br he looked at his certificates br one hundred, none were new. br Remembered all his special honours br bestowed by envious peers br and wondered silently inside br was it just smoke and mirrors? br Sat on the floor, the crouching hurt br and cried a bit, alone br it was a shock when it occurred br to him that in his bone br a nasty parasite had lodged br who had an appetite br for living tissue as it dodged br the killer cells with spite. br What a caressing devastation br to find that all one knows br means nothing in the scheme of things br and that it simply shows br we humans, dumb and arrogant br pretend because we must br and turn into a sycophant br in desperado frust br So Papa started with the first br of all the hardbound works br and re-awakened his old thirst br and thought perhaps there lurks br the answer to his desperate plea br if not he would be doomed. br For many weeks he was engrossed br with all his dearest friends br he often wandered, became lost br and tied up old loose ends. br The memories of high school days br and then the cruel studies br came flooding back with old Hooray's br and like a bunch of buddies br the authors of so many books br who'd passed so long ago br had kept their bright and brilliant looks br and smiled their stern Hello. br And finally, he knew the answer br not one of them had lived br and many had succumbed to cancer br they would have been quite miffed br that all their learnings was no use br and even frank denial br was killing that great golden goose br with liquid from a vial. br He saw and welcomed his own end br stood up and tugged his tie br remembering every single friend br he then laid down to die.