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I came out screaming from the womb
No I am not a malcontent, I innocent
Was slapped upon my nakedness. Gloom
Was the first thing I grasp, a dissident
             Wet and squirming in ackward light
             Suddenly changes, I could not swim
             This new ocean of day becoming night
             I slept so that I would not know the grim.

My mother's last child sixteen years gone
All the flowers were dried up in their bed
And yet old skies make still a brighter dawn
But someone superior wanted me here instead
             I had a purpose before I was conceived
             My mission awaited me the day I was born
             My father was being rolled up like a sleeve
             They were at late evening, I was at morn.

I often wondered what he said to her, before
I am sure they did not hold hands about me
The liquid tongue of tidal waves on the shore
Sang not in prophecy, nor splash of memory
            She must have surprised him with surprise
            Ebb and flowing either which crinkling way:
            O I am about unamask our love's disguise

And then came March, and the phoenix spring
Ecstacy that came long before, now to follow
The puffs and groans of agony, making the wing
Puts a strain on the moth. March is a mellow
            Month ending when I am coming new
            From the wet blackness where God too
            Wet his ankle in the milk mildness of dew
            I am a child of spring, but how dry I grew.

What was the boring sum of my days you ask
This waking and sleeping and smiling on cue
When my physiology grounding them in task
Spoke of my humanity, making me like you
            O I had such dreams then, not where
            I am heading now and still do not know
            But where I coming from, the comfort there
            And memory fading, fading the more I grow.

Here is the sum of it, the absolute beauty
Of being born, and brimming with reality of God
Heaven is somewhere in the past, O duty
Shall find me there if earth backward would trod
            There is a mystery paling life at the edge
            Of life, There is a depth in us shallowed by time
            And I cannot unthirst me of this knowledge
            It is too absolute, and O, it is too sublime
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