Let us author ourselves!
Let’s zig-zag with the lightning,
crack like thunder,
savagely smear our war paint
and make up our faces for moving on!
— Spurn and do away with
all we learned —
Let us recreate ourselves
in the dusky light of our selves.
Isn’t that the way we were made?
From slivers of stars?
To sprout and give and gather our wealth?
It is not wrong.
It is our song.
Can’t you hear the violins playing?
The fish leaping in the waters?
The tiger burning bright in the jungle?
Let us find our primordial selves!
We slipped out of the puddle.
We can make ourselves as we were!
Light is peeking under the door!
To carry us on our trek.
Don’t be late.
Time is snoozing on the bed.
In us all is a rhythm,
an undying beat that
we creatures of the deep sense.
It is all around us:
the flight in the air
the call of the wild
the simplicity of the stem!
It’s never wrong
to sing only our song!
As we fly back to the suns!
A seed to nourish the galaxies.