Long, long ago we were here before, when
Resting in cloistered groves of academe.
Did we know; could we know… imagine… then,
When questions we asked were new and extreme?
Have we mellowed since, or in frustration
Continue – though not through youthful ideal?
Closed thinking, tame writing dulls sensation
As career and position inward steal.
Blind meaningless ambition shifts our aim,
As scholarship blurs with every edict.
My bias, values, hidden or made tame,
Dilute conclusions, easy to predict...
So, do we stand on shoulders departed
Or give up before we’ve barely started?

Here’s another sonnet (yes, I am probably obsessed with them as I’ve hinted at before, but I think with good reason).

This one was written before I retired when feeling frustrated with academia as governed by rules written by methodologically dogmatic senior people who don’t seem to understand what innovation in thinking and scholarship are all about.