An Elegy For a Legend, In Memory of the Inspiration That Was Mehdi Bagheri, My Great Teacher

He is dead. My beloved teacher is gone. Like the burning sun, with knowledge he shone A man of letters, he would voice his thoughts Costing him dear ever and anon Gone is he who was out of place A man that laughed in the faith’s face The letter and fetor of tradition Could not fetter his rational race Poverty, problems, pains and plight never bereaved him of his mental might. Proud, profound, and thoughtful as he was Stoop he would not to what was not right   Language pregnant, words exquisite At bunkum he cut with his acid wit To paper his pen whenever he set To our ignorance, we all would admit   He always swam against the tide. Many he spurned in his pride. His abrasiveness and sullen facade From so many, his kind heart would hide What most people considered gospel Neither would he buy, nor would he sell Brains his ever burgeoning belonging Gave him direction, one thing you could tell Mediocrity he could never take Averageness ran counter to his make In Rome when he was, Roman he was not An authentic man, he was never fake Stabbed by the ruthless knife of death, was his fruitful life. Too young he died and with his death Sadness rained down. Sorrow ran rife   In the face of death, nothing can be done All that lives and is, one day will be gone Yet his legacy, a blazing torch Weathers the woes and will never wan. In person though I’ll meet him nevermore His teachings remain with me evermore A self-made soul and a man of mark He was what he was, a wisdom ore.