(A praxis of illative prosody aformed by Sextet Sublime!)
Whole legions of them seeming for ages hidden
Re-emerge from time to time in firm giddy mirth
To dent precurse their stilted meanings like a
across the wilful good of birth, casting shadows
had of bad conscience self-inflicted, demented
The strangest rationales based on mix of ignorance and arrogance
As if pride itself lent creedance to spell put on self meant to tell
Of easy truths self-evident like God, rights, pursuit of happiness
Which, all told, is sad inversion of consequence a pre-science anthropic version of human nature Where long since it’s been known nothing is certain about states of innocence, tacit consent Except in theories long since rent asunder by inductive, empirical argument In opposition to equality gleaned by means of abstract thought
For just because, since Euclid taught if A equals C and B does too therefore, igitur, A equals B by necessity
(as if deductive truth fortells identicality of men indistinguishable to us as ants in nest) must mean strict equivalency by divine design of some kind to wit,
Pray do tell it remains to us all equally something of an insoluble mystery since
Like evidence of any one to one doth tell that unless they be twins nothing betwixt them are not anything else but
Difference distinct in kind by appearance, talk, and mind.
Nor is it clear rights are divine derived direct distinctly clear a truth self-evident
Demanding a kind of automatic assent as if the whole matter didn’t require real inquest as to whether or not all that is even remotely so true as oft proclaimed.
Lest more blood be shed in the name of truth nothing be said but by wishful thinking be construed
For to me nothing is more self-evidently true (and true you may hang me for this) than that there is little truer than this, that truths self-evident do not exist
And what’s more if said Creator does exist all proof of this has failed to waystay critiques of all the favorable argument
Cosmological, ontological, even that famous one faint agnostically suggested utilizing archetypes of collective unconscious
Or evidence from near-death, mystics, mediums, bad car accidents, pastlife hypnoses, seances starring the dead, or other miraculous hyperboles of dread.
Rather, if equality is an achievable aim, let evolution play out its fond game, and opt for removal of the anti-life types,
The weak in knee bigots of moral expert ease, self-styled virtuous influencers of what’s best for you, me, all that we see,
And send all the jinxes by ship out to sea
In vast barks with buffets, beer bars and leaks.