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25 A Century Ago Each time a child is born Parents fire gun Hoisting total joy Especially when he is a boy. I saw them throng Our dome for the baby I was; strong. All that came were sane None insane And none a saint But amongst them, one, quaint. At my sight He sighed; I saw questions dancing On his mind for my coming; One quested mundane weirdness, Another life’s senselessness. With a lively smile Unbeguiled I told my baby self Never to pave way to this elf ’Cause ’twas meaningless venturing to coin any from the senseless. There at work is nature Inscribed in the proverbs of the scripture…. ...

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