We die many times

to the exuberance of childhood

to springs gone by

to the laughter of our souls

in a child’s life

 

When first we sit at our desk

in a little child’s way

and learn from others the abc’s

of how to stay

put

 

Dying begins 

long before that

When our thumbs no longer suck

When we, “Do this,” “not that,”

When we see our father’s hand

and stop going that way

When we hear our mother’s cry

and come

and stay

 

Life begins with a little, small cry,

Life begins with a baby’s open eye,

Life begins even before that

in darkness, in womb,

in another’s climax,

 

Life is a seed through which we come

Life is a seed through which we come to be

Life is a heritage

Life is a lineage

Life is a coming of age

to be

one with our life

we must come to see

Life is about dying

to one’s self

to live

eternally.