Echo of Being

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Before the first pulse, a quiet, deep hum,
No form to inhabit, no name to become.
A whisper of essence, in stardust entwined,
The vast, silent knowing of a singular mind.
Not bound by the ticking of transient hours,
Just pure, unmade potential, infinite powers.

Then light, like a hammer, struck vibrant and true,
And breath was a gift, both ancient and new.
A vessel was fashioned, a spirit imbued,
With senses awakening, a world to be viewed.
Why am I? A question, a primal, soft plea,
As the "I" took its shape, wild, curious, free.

Through laughter and sorrow, through struggle and grace,
I sought for the answers in time's fleeting space.
In mirrors reflecting a changeable face,
In roles I embraced, then bravely erased.
Each scar was a lesson, each joy a brief gleam,
Building the complex, intricate dream.
Why am I? The echo in passion's fierce heat,
In triumphs that lifted, in bitter defeat.

Now looking back, the patterns unfold,
A story of living, brave, tender, and bold.
The "I" is not limited to flesh or to bone,
But the love I have given, the seeds I have sown.
It's the empathy felt, the wisdom attained,
The courage that bloomed when my spirit was strained.
Why am I? To witness, to feel, to transcend,
To learn, to connect, and to beautifully mend.

And when the great canvas of life is complete,
And the heart's final rhythm finds its soft, sweet retreat,
This "I" will not vanish, nor simply cease to be,
But merge with the cosmos, returning to Thee.
For I am the stardust, the sun, and the rain,
The boundless, eternal, encompassing main.
I am because being is the ultimate art,
A unique, living pulse of the universal heart.




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