Maybe you think my job is dying –

An old lady with tinted hair

And horn rimmed glasses,

Hushing you.

My job’s not dying –

It’s just a child

Trying to find it’s way in this big world,

Where learning is a right

But it’s treated like a privilege.

Where the big just get bigger

And the small just get smaller.

Where information is a commodity,

One that runs the world,

Holds you back

Or juts you out

Into

That

Cold

Dark

Place.

It shows you what was

And what is

And what will be.

It helps you know

And learn

And change.

Change yourself

And change the world.

My dream job isn’t about me:

It’s about you

And others like you.

It brings the light and warmth

Into the cold and dark.

It makes the small big

And the big seem small.

So let me show you where to find that book

In 650.1;

And show you that website

For small business loans;

I’ll send you on your way to newer and bigger things,

And I’ll wait here,

Content to help the next.