Somewhere out of all loss and brilliance
a newborn daughter elucidates my dust.
Her marvelous power of entanglement
must surely be the emerald vector gashing
a crocus seed through wounded snow.
Her teardrop is the asymptotic curve
of eternal silence. On a twig of cherry
she gathers galaxies to scarlet bud.
When I look into her iris my amazement
impregnates the vacuum of deep space
with a resonance men call God.
The frailest quiver of her lip disturbs
the earth with a dance named Summer.
See how, bewildered by oscillations
of dark matter in the liquid innocence
of a dream, her eyes re-create you?
The yearning of two voids churned
her heart out of blood and breath,
ancestral chromosomes and massless
photons of presence, like infinitesimal bells
all crying "Yes" to the light of the flesh.
Now confirm her omnipresence and
remember, you too were already perfect
the moment you were born.
Illustration by Rashani Réa, from our book,
'Shimmering Birthless: A Confluence of Verse and Image' LINK