The same mute question that you meet in the street
is the ancient question that ancestors grappled with
the question that crackles and pops like heated oil
A question that unfurls like a flag
and hang mutely in the air like a virus
tugging at our heartstrings
a question of yesterday, now and tomorrow
a head-splitting question that blinks
like a star in the darkness of the sky
a question that jumps out of the lips
of children who have no clue
that the question is perenial
a question in our genes passed on
from generation to generation
a mute and colourful question
that demands freedom and responsibility
A question that rolls like water down a slope
A rousing question that belongs to us all
A mosquito that keeps us agog at night
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