They say we replay forever in our minds
The rules learned in the first six years of our lives
The mother of all mantras, like a broken record
Images of your first fears
Seen through your first tears
Adults standing by
Deciding whether you will love or hate
Be selfish or generous
Withdrawn or outgoing
A poet or a politician
Observing chaos or causing it
An innocent bystander or a perpetrator.
Now we sit on the edge of chaos
And the voices say, “do nothing, you cannot do anything about chaos, you don’t know how to deal with chaos.”
Do we stand up, or submit?
Crafty discourse rides on the mother of all mantras, expecting complacency and extinguishing all growth of conscience, as if we were six years old.
This could be our collective age
A society unable to learn
Stuck in its fears and instincts
What will we do about it?