There's those who stand in judgment
Of everything that's past
From platforms made of rectitude
And stones so bravely cast

Towards a time, now silent,
That can't defend its ways;
But maybe it's been ever so.
I know it's so, these days --

What wasn't, can't be talked about.
And now, what isn't thought
Is human commonality:
How even our best is fraught

With good intentions, soon to be
Destroyed by future mavens,
Reducing us to categories
From cloistered online havens

When what were was so much more:
To suffer, in the end,
Reductionism's careless way
Of killing us

Again