When we’re born,

Skin the texture of bubbles,

Hair like candyfloss to the touch…

We’re like a tuft of the universe’s ponytail,

Clipped off yet precious, valued, not forgotten.

We are the scent of stardust and

Wield heavenly memory in our tiny, clenched fists.

For moments, we unleash the cry of longing for

What we’ve left behind in pursuit of the taste of beauty

That’s curtailed by mortality’s scythe.

Our eyes enter this realm in temporary blindness,

Shying away from eager gazes expecting

Much too much from our newly exposed being.

We wait to see a new slate of what lies before us,

Be it good, bad, or benign.

Our piercing scream announces our presence,

Much like a town crier’s bullhorn declaring the arrival

Of an ancient soul inhabiting a new sheath of flesh.

We’re here.

To settle.

To re-remember.

To balance earth and sky.

To forever juggle good and bad.

Never the neutral, for neutrality is omnipresent.

It cradles the kindling for the spark each of us carries

To fuel what has the potential to ignite brilliance, mediocrity, good or bad.

That, and the miracle that our very presence here

In this space and time is in itself against

A billion odds that could have prevented

Our existence in this realm.

Written by Frank Malaba


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s