Primal Answer

Deep within, it’s etched inside/ myself at child’s play,/in a battle of words that refines young minds/left handed, taught and trained, /in what is fertile, in what is automatic./Breaking out of striped uniforms,I complied,/with daily toil, with the consent of my tribe./I could aspire to no other finding, ahead of myself, I match wits with a different regiment/past master of a sleepless mirth /I share only with sleek cats,a makeshift attention /to giving whatever’s needed/ to the young and docile./ I run along, they rebound;/if I sit still, I make out their pattern as equals, /with a pulse nearer to our centers/ where the only  chance for rainfall /is for those who labor in silence

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