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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,

I am.


–  Juan-Paolo Perre