"Mother and Child."
"We're all dreamers.
We don't know who we are.
Some machine made us.
Machine of the world.
The constricting family.
And back to the world, polished by soft quips, we dream.
We don't remember.
Machine of the family, dark fur forests of the mother's body.
Machine of the mother, white city
inside her, and before that earth and water.
Moss between rocks, pieces of leaves and grass,
and before cells and a great darkness.
Before that, the veiled world.
This is why you were born, to silence me.
Cells of my mother and father, it
is your turn to be pivotal, to be the masterpiece.
I improvise, I never remember.
Now it's your turn to be driven.
You're the one who demands to know.
Why do I suffer?
Why am I ignorant?
Cells in the great darkness.
Some machine made us.
It is your turn to address it, to go back asking, what
am I for?
What am I for?"