At first, we know not what we are: care in mouth, warm in belly, throng in ear — invisible breath holding fast, mother-tongue moulding
When spring warms, sap quickens. When tide turns, fish run. When moon dances, dingos frolic. Where time ticks, we become
Shaped by seed, shaped by deed: shaped into a shaper of our shape — we taste similar, sound similar, are similar: earthly fish, earthly fowl, earthly beast
Lightning strikes one place, rainbow arches another. Tall or short, thin or fat, smart or dump, rich or poor: humus or human— we can never know what our begoing becomes.
Begoing / Bruce Graham Fell
