When you don’t inhabit yourself
You cannot be in the world
When you inhabit only yourself
You are still not in the world
Having found the self
Forget the self
You were enwombed in gentle darkness
There the soul germinated, took root
Listen now, in the old, everyday kind of way
Then, the womb will not entomb you
You are still lithe of spirit
It is good, for a while, to be alive
And altogether human
Outside, it is still high summer