Consciousness Begins In The Womb
Before the breath, before the cry,
Where silent stars in stillness lie,
A pulse begins, a spark, a thread,
In quiet dark where dreams are fed.
The sea within, both warm and deep,
A drifting soul begins to sleep—
Yet stirs with whispers soft and round,
Of mother's voice and beating sound.
A bud unopened feels the rain,
The hush of joy, the ghost of pain,
And though no word has yet been named,
The heart is lit, the soul is claimed.
Each ripple felt, each breathless turn,
The mind unknown begins to learn,
Of light it cannot see or prove—
And love, the first it’s conscious of.
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