Okay, let me begin with a question.
Can someone assure us?
For it's own sake,
for the sake of our existence.
Mine, yours, theirs, ours.
That we will not twirl the arguments
that are just born
of our own womb, having been dormant
for time immemorial.
Then, can you stop unleashing?
Those shreds of stillborn thoughts,
maddening for now,
soothing when you and I would be dead.
Dead would be all of us, with our children,
and would be alive our orotund shadows,
querrelling with the arguments,
we impetuously forget, for fear of what?