In the quiet of a room alone
wrapped in a winter’s gloaming.
I stare at yellow legal pad
and fight a mental roaming.
I’ve a song, this song, to sing.
I at last an embryo
stretch arms, legs, toes and fingers
And find the shell’s sides once so close
on far horizons linger.
Such distances to grow.
My heart flares up — a burst of flame
of fear, retreat, disgression.
Then from the heat I take my life
and, joyous, know compassion.
I hum, I grow, and glowing.
And in a moment plasma throbs —
pink life shed sheaths of ash.
I enter a whole new universe.
Does it differ from that past?
It does excite me so!
— Circa 1973