I’m the jargon of my own existence

I’m the jargon of my own existence

An idea of God

Forged by my mother

Coined by my father

Nurtured by my people

Sculpted by the time I live in

I am just an idea!

I will be soon forgotten

To a grave

Whose rough face will read

“Here lies an idea

Which cannot be reclaimed

Unless you fall in love.”