So, lost, erased, you seek a lifetime's days for it
And dig deep to find the sweet instructions there Put by when God first circuited and printed thee to life:
"Go hence! do this! do that! do yet another thing! This self is yours! Be it!"
And what is that?! you cry at hearthing breast, Is there no rest? No, only journeying to be yourself.
And even as the Birthmark vanishes, in seashell ear
Now fading to a sigh, His last words send you in the world:
"Not mother, father, grandfather are you.
Be not another. Be the self I signed you in your blood. I swarm your flesh with you. Seek that.
And, finding, be what no one else can be.
And dig deep to find the sweet instructions there Put by when God first circuited and printed thee to life:
"Go hence! do this! do that! do yet another thing! This self is yours! Be it!"
And what is that?! you cry at hearthing breast, Is there no rest? No, only journeying to be yourself.
And even as the Birthmark vanishes, in seashell ear
Now fading to a sigh, His last words send you in the world:
"Not mother, father, grandfather are you.
Be not another. Be the self I signed you in your blood. I swarm your flesh with you. Seek that.
And, finding, be what no one else can be.
( Ray Bradbury )
[ Zen in the Art of Writing ]
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