When I wonder
do we first think
we Are
welcome to the world?
From the abyss
of a watery womb
we hear
outside
of Us
we know
when words fail
we wail
upon arrival
into blinding light
from maternal night
Immobile and trapped
in our scaly shells
worn by the tides
we call Time
we wither
from glass to grain
too small to complain
anymore
utter
nonsense
We forget
Shards and slices
pieces of Us
that cut to the race
humanity
drops of sea
expire We
at the finish line
of memory
shuddering
blindly
in our final victory
drowned
in revelry.
Image By Koga Harue, Koga Harue, 1929 (died in 1933) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
