Like nature itself indifferent to the impact
of its tempests wrought upon a world cringing
when its spinning sphere belches its molten interior
and heaves its mantle the malediction of humanity
launched against its most enduring, potently creative
tribe ebbs and flows. One might assume that
those chosen to absorb those dagger-thrusts
of limitless suspicion and violent hatred
from birth to death might become immune to
their outcast status yet with each tide of the moon
that resurrects the fabrication of a people destined
to endure a fate bruised by lethal assaults to
diminish the number of those whose creative
genius advances world knowledge and prosperity
while advocating equal justice for all, the trauma
resurfaces to nestle deep within the ancient
inherited subconscious wracked with the certainty
it will never end. Capriciously, it does not.
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