Interstice
Heavenly rest isn’t what I most covet. (Though plenty of people do swear that I’d love it.)
Submitted by Peter Maeck
When in the womb you’re rather small,
But pre-conceived you’re not at all.
You’re neither head nor arm nor leg.
You’re not a sperm, you’re not an egg.
You’re nada, zippo, diddly, zero;
Nobody’s fool and nobody’s hero.
No one has loved you; you’ve never been kissed.
The world could care less that you don’t yet exist.
On the other hand, though, and I’m not being funny,
You’re free of all guilt and you owe no one money.
But while that’s the case, the converse is true:
You owe not a penny, but none’s owed to you.
Maybe you’re better off not being born,
Safe in the dark, never seeing the morn.
Consider the limbo before you drew breath:
Is the state before birth any different from death?
If it isn’t then you must admit that the tomb
Doesn’t differ in function or form from the womb.
