Said the Master
to his pupil,
Superman dying
is not a possibility
any one likes to imagine.
The glory from saving
the little child trapped in a fire
or Lois Lane captured by Lex Luthor’s
machine, even the cat stuck
in a tree — they too perish as their
memories. What foolishness
to believe that power
is not fleeting, that order will not lead to
disorder. Superman’s death is
no different from that of a seedling;
Only time and space will
tell his bitter end.
And the pupil replied,
So, what are we to do?
The Master answered,
Disengage your desire
to be like him.
And the pupil shook his head,
All his life he dreamt
of the wrong thing.
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