ओं थे अर्रिवल ऑफ़ माय विंग्स

they have arrived now,
encased in the beauty of what can become of a tree
when a soul's work is added.

I hope to add another's, and
to give something in return;

quandoquidem, in honesty,
what I give is not given altruistically.

Let me explain.
I increasingly often find myself so bursting at the seams with feeling
that I fear I could cease to exist if it doesn't become something else.

And so, it's harnessed into whatever is nearest-
what do I have? Language. Sound waves. Light waves.
Beauty is what keeps us alive, really.
Don't you agree?

We fall in love with the world, and are left no choice
but to create more life to share the beauty with.
After all, when left with the soul's ultimatum,
who could ever choose nothing, really?

ab imo pectore,
ad astra per aspera,
ab urbe condita,
ad abque infinitum,
ab quisque corpusculum,
amo te.