The Occasion of My Birth

Born an ancient soul,
my future lay dead in a karmic past.
Still, I donned an infant’s blanket
like a death shroud spun too soon,
and prepared for the pretense of life.

What else could my costume be
on this occasion of deceit?

For though my parent’s loved me
they knew not the things I knew.
Still-born I might have been 
if not for the enigma of rebirth.

Written September 5, 2001