We have already won.
We are born and here.
In fact we, ourselves, so willed it
That we live is the mirror
Duplicating on itself
Of creation in creation creating
This is the prize
This is the promotion to higher station we seek
This is the gift.
There is more dust than outer space itself
Not conjured not formed
More carbon laying flat
Unpressed upon or unwilling to become diamonds
Than all we scant gems do realize.
You there without a home
You are the apex of all kind
You there without funds
Your mind’s a tool to rival fire
And you there who suffer assault
Can yet regenerate some newborn life – and say,
– Juan-Paolo Perre