Beseeched I am to bridle my hand
while the wild animal feeds, though
I perceive they grow indolent
to their natural needs. Once
anomalous wild souls, now they find
themselves regressing to basic
physiological needs, as time
will have them soon, gnawing
my anxious hand that seeds.
Will the world for them hold
when the bold, become a nuisance
surrounded by mass shattered
pieces and the curious all disagree.
Will the ancient story of Babel
still live on as a fable, while around
us she crumbles to her withered knees,
and the land, overgrown by vegetation
no one recalls, how to water?
Or with what it feeds?
Think twice before pellucid sympathy
disguises itself as heroic empathy,
leaving behind a trail of impotence
forewarned the Chinese proverb reads,
If you give a man a fish he is
hungry again in an hour.
If you teach him to catch a fish
no longer will he cower.
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