Our Selves

 

Suspended in the primal aqueous

security of our mothers' wombs

we take presence in the genetic soup

that forms us, absorb our mothers'

plaintive whispers of accented fear

experience beyond memory the pain

and anguish that will mark our days.

Leavened by primordial nature's

ever-evolving displays of being

and the opportunities we are enjoined

to grasp, complementing destinies

fulfilling souls' desires. In the process

finding elusive pleasures. Discovering

possibilities, clasping them close

and in a lifetime hurling ourselves

into the future, the reality of life.

Neatly side-stepping when we may

the imperial realities of all existence that

inform and forewarn us, even while

we studiously look elsewhere

preferentially remain oblivious

to that long and steady journey

an imperative we cannot deny.

But then, why linger on the distant

inevitability when we can take comfort

in the meaningful present. Impressions are

what form our memory, our being

clasped close to the heart of who we are.

While we are here, the who and what we

are is what must consume our being.