“To be born is to be made visible.”
“I was struck like a match.
I had no option but to burn.”
– Lily, the Piano Man’s Daughter
What does birth mean? Were we there before? An idea, a hope, a mistake? Then, whose choice was it to strike the match and reveal the flame?
I suppose that to burn means to live then, but how? To touch everything with the fiery maelstrom like Midas, but only to find ashes instead of gold in the end? Or to flicker and flit in the dark and dare not to illuminate anything at all?
And when does birthing end and growing begins? When does dying begin? When do they all end?
You grow when you are in the womb and keep growing when you enter the world.
Or is it but a slow death that begins from the moment the sperm meets the egg?
Perhaps you may grow to a certain age, then begin dying.
Or maybe you are really just in the process of being born continuously into the experiences we face until you finish with the world and take your leave.
Then are we all alive before the womb? As a decision? Or a decision badly made? Are we created or revealed?
Do we all flame? Are we all made visible?
Do we all burn?