Speak no more of lineage
Of those who came first because
They did not make you.

You were born
In the same instance when
A bird was sighing, a man crying, a child

Understanding, but not quite yet
That sometimes you must see the rise and fall
Of your own
Chest

To know you are being.
Sometimes you will
Be
And not quite know, and
Other times you will know and just barely
Be.