These words most vital,
Of great excitement
And deep intimacy,
That push the bounds
Of knowing and not knowing,
Of killing and not killing,
These are the words that,
Nailed to the post,
Lose power, lose truth,
As if they are
Too crude a tool
To lift the lid
With grace and care,
And breathe life inside
Yet not do it harm.
To open the box, to speak its name
May hurt this little thing,
Both frail and strong at once.
A breath then is quite enough
And, if wanting,
To leave alone to {thrive|die}
