A choice…

In the distance, a voice, with no choice at all,

(p)reserves only humanity, with no choice at all.

(H)ear the distant thunders! Hear the distant sighs!

There is no gard living just the living ostracized!

Beneathe our footsteps hear our thunders

and fear not ur living age

cos the thunder you hear ripplin’

is just our thyme and s’age;

and then again  ‘she’ will denounce, as any living mother might,

to say that is no way to be and there’s no God-Given rite!