no man knows his father, says the poet homer;
all epic struggle seeks to discover one’s donor.
“who am i” was the original conception:
all subsequent answers have been a deception.
this initial whim is full of great frustration:
life after life renews the answer to one question.
we all long to return to where it all began:
the mother of all wombs and the cosmic bang!
don’t bother with tracing your adoption service;
we are all ragged orphans crying out for bliss.
sad darvish feels abandoned by his creator,
as he receives an embrace from his dear savior!