We are shortsighted in the question of our individual origins,
Our parents often being the first step along our calculating paths,
Then our larger families, our hometowns, maybe our countries,
Our first kiss, the broken heart, jobs we got,
Those we lost,
If only I had known what I do now.
In the divine view, however, we are much older than mom, than dad,
The cities and countries of our origins,
We are in the very first moment,
The moment in which would all things become,
The moment in which that to become, would continue,
The moment in which are all the pieces, for all the stars,
All the water, all the trees,
The flower my nose stumbled upon yesterday,
The giggling student in the stuffy second floor classroom,
The stream I hear washing the stones,
Cascading through the ravine, to the reservoir,
Into the sea and back again.
In a farsighted understanding of our true origins,
Our true parents, the true size and interdependency of our families,
Ourselves in the first moment,
We find a larger and far more compassionate truth,
That as much as we can be the master of our fates,
We are the casualties of our inherited traits,
All 13.7 billion years of them.
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