Not to be born is best, said Sophocles
But, of course, he had 3 sons

So do I ye nay sayers
They are my darling ones

The depression comes; I lie in bed.
I sleep away the days

This life is an Absurdity
Relentlessly the maze

But still I call my growing boys
Their voices give me hope

Only silence is my theology
But I like this Francis Pope

O my sons! my sons!
Help me endure and cope.