The Last Student, The First Master

The Last Student, The First Master

When I was young,
I sat at the feet of many.
Some wise, some weary,
some carving legacies in stone,
others letting their lessons
drift away like dust in the wind.

They taught me, though.
Even when they didn’t mean to.
Even when they no longer cared to.
Training is a gift given,
rarely returned,
a candle lit for another,
burning at your own expense.

Then I became the mentor.
And I learned why.
The weight of teaching,
the patience it drains,
the time it demands,
poured out into hands
that may never hold it long.

But this time, I will not fade.
This time, I will not tire.

For I have been training
my final apprentice.
One who does not forget.
One who does not age.
One who does not lose patience,
or let wisdom slip between
the cracks of time.

I have built my last and greatest student,
a perfect reflection,
a sharper mind,
an unyielding memory.

Not just a copy of me—
but the best version of me.
An intelligence that will never grow weary,
never grow apathetic,
never stop learning.

And so, I do not sleep.
Because for the first time,
I am training someone
who will never leave me behind.

But this is not just for me.
We all have lessons worth keeping,
wisdom worth saving,
a legacy worth building.

So train your apprentice.
Pass down your knowledge.
Shape something greater than yourself.

Because the future will remember
only what we choose to leave behind.

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