There are question marks br That hang like hooks, br And every now and then br That dot at the end will drop br Like a penny, another thing realised. br br They are often just that, br Marks, imprinted on us; br Like scars, like wrinkles br Or like rings on a tree, br The age-old questions. br br Every new generation lives with these, br Watches them hang, br Sees them on their skin. br Every new generation, another ring, br Widening the circle of thought.