This journey starts from the sea-men,
Coalition of sea-men to meet the ova;
Crumple and trample in the genital’s den
And at the blink of an eye, it is over.
This journey continues in the womb,
A solitude dungeon like a tomb,
Feeding from the filthy filter of umbilical.
The world then is not like this, not identical.
We then cross the tarmac of non-existence
To the wildly wide world called life,
Where all eyes wear the mask of tense
And we crawl, walk and join the strife.
In this journey are days of tasty meal
And the horrible days without a meal.
They are the nights we count the stars,
Sing songs of hope, and grope for our scars.
This journey includes a good mourning
On a day we laugh out loud our cries
And make amusement from our mourning;
Death is not a choice, thus we make more tries.
Journeying in this journey includes me, you and us,
And we all ride on the spine of time as if on a horse.
This journey includes a day we shall leave
And other sea-men will be birthed to live.