Beginnings
My creator used music to send me into existence;
the hum, breath and rhythm of her heart beat,
my cells divided to her symphony of strings,
to the pulse of her lungs and vibration
of her blood shivering through her.
Those veins taught like violin strings,
ready for the bow and dust of resin.
She was always ready to make me out of music,
with her ocean sounds, her tide pools receding,
in utero, I pressed my ear against her belly,
just how I press my ear against a conch shell.
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