In the cradle I saw, a piercing stare, it punctured my soul.
Its eyes are my own, yet I could not dive through its black holes to find the tales I have lived.
Its lips, are my own, yet I could not hear the rippling tongue riddle the rhymes of repetitive rhetoric.
Its flesh is my own, a porcelain shell.
In the cradle I saw a mirror demonstrating my urge to crawl back into a realm of new beginnings.
In the cradle I saw a new breath, naive relaxation and a consciousness empty of trauma and woe.
In the cradle I saw new potential, freedom and candour.
In the cradle I saw our flesh breathe new light, born together, sharing a lineage of entity and existence.
And outside the cradle I saw a tantalising spider flee to make webs across someone else’s mind.