Sonnet: Man, Know Thy Life-Giver

O Man! Didn’t thou wriggle out flexed from womb? You’re born placentaed with umbilical-tube; O Man! Thou must return too flexed to tomb, But cannot know this by the ‘dotted-cube’! Thou wert much squeezed and turned through birth-canal; The others cried with joy with your first cry! To go anal has become so banal; Life halts/proceeds with whiffs of air, you try. Yet, you deny the God who gives you life! You vow that Science controls the Universe; ’Tis the Maker who stands by you in strife, And guides you till is taken out, your hearse. Thou art an instrument in Maker’s Hand! ’Tis left to you, in Heaven/ Hell to land. 6-3-2001