I am in the egg, cells dividing, aligning, becoming brainstem. Who knows how the heart emerges, beating like that? Rhythmic potato. I am not yet “me”, or “me” is this clump of stuff. How ridiculous. I am forty-six years - not yet a whole human. I am in the egg.
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american incarnations 
Interesting poem ! It is equivalent to going into a foetal position ! atleast that is my way of seeing it .You do have a gift ! love,Amma ________________________________