Branded

We write volumes
Burying within them —
Single lines, a few words
Which, if stated
Without the padding
Would get us killed

Upon the earth of man
There is no place left
Where a child is born
And his soul is not branded
With a mortal fear of speech
By the time he has learned to speak

And he is condemned
Unless he revolts
To be a slave to words
Without ever knowing
Their power
To unmake the universe