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