As held within creation’s crib, unborn
Where life begets; ‘tis how I came to be
Developing as foetus yet to form
From blocks which build originality
My DNA may prove to be unique
Perchance to hold a quill ‘twixt fingers webbed
Expressing thoughts unable yet to speak
A metaphoric ink best left unsaid
Within my fluid realm I can but dream
Awaiting neurological enhance
Where miracles occur or so ‘twould seem
In composition penned as if by chance
Writ large the words spill out across the page
Once fruit of womb, have now become of age