Birth

Alone in his darkened cave the aesthetic lies,
Curled warm by the heat of the mountain,
Asleep but aware he floats in his daily dream,
Awaiting nothing in particular.
Just going with the flow bro.
He hears the sounds of the ocean,
They feel so near to him,
He floats in the Om.
Slowly stretching one leg, he pushes
Against the air and hears the mountain breathe.
Resting in the comfort of some kinda knowing,
Needs met by something he cannot define.
Hearing the voices of Gods and Angels
Whispering into his ears, telling stories
Of all he will become.
Secure in the Protection he grows.
Suddenly one day, the mountain began to shake
It’s sides peeling and collapsing around him
Forcing the aesthetic thru a narrowed tunnel.
Squeezed, pushed painfully toward an opening,
Violently expelled into the light and noise, he cried silently,“Oh man! Not again!” then the amnesia set in.