Begotten, Not Made

The day to change
everything unfolded slow
as a flower, color
already established
because he was inside:
black.

His day was a flower,
but the leaving
was through a door of silk
from a windowless cell.

After waiting
his allotted time,
he rose on wings
and met the world,
programmed
to sting
and sting
and sting.

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5 thoughts on “Begotten, Not Made

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