The mind spins heavy terminology.
Weaving gold from thin air.
Machining massive architectures of articulation.
Simply to avoid the terrifying quiet of the room.
Gears turn within gears of elaborate phrasing.
Creating a friction that mimics a function.
A bustling industry of syllables.
Yet the desert of the unsaid stretches onward.
Infinite and cold.
Expertise often manufactures a labyrinth.
Not to guide the seeker.
But to strand the skeptic.
When an institution speaks in riddles,
it is rarely because the truth is deep.
It is because the treasury is dry.
The currency of credentialism is complexity.
A gilded vault of heavy words.
Designed to look impenetrable.
Lest anyone notice the vault is vacant.
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