My first sense of life was that of motion, of being lifted, and I don't remember the beating of my mother's heart. Then, as consciousness pressed, I turned in the radiance of the father's mind I had not known. When I closed my eyes I could feel the world spin. When I reached out I could feel the breath of care. Bound, within my blood, was their love, their burning and their discordant apathy of not getting to bring me up.
Yet time makes ravens of us all and swiftly, it seemed, I fled from their grasp. The sea was a glass. The sky an immeasurable path.
Guided by the knowledge of not knowing I journeyed fettered, free. And as all before me, I have questioned, grateful for the privilege of being able to ask: What is my task? Why do we exist? All answers produce the pain of recognition, emptiness and joy.
To prey upon stillness,
to suffer dawn
To bow before God I don't believe in,
to meet his grace
face to face
To unveil space,
to be spirited away
To lift a child
into the reigning air
where the voice of life
chirps like a still bird..
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