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The Operative Questions
Preyed on by our own
inventions, by an insane liar
parading his armies through
swamps, can we stay
the hand on the switch?
Do we chop that hand
and hope, or take the
mouth of the head
that commands the hand?
Another prays in the desert
spitting philosophic dares
at his sons to douse
their bodies in flames
for heroism. Sending
his homespun hatred
as he hides in caverns.
Can we catch the mice
without traps?
Do we march without
the weight of surety?
Do we stand upon our
feet and walk strong?
Four horses race from four winds
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