First it is becoming an embryo,
Then becoming an infant,
Then it becomes the coming of age,
Then it becomes a thing,
A thing many call adulating,
But isn’t all that just biology…

I think yes, just biology,
But what really is biology?
A mysterious art of the maker,
The maker of all matter, all that which
Matters and all that which matters not,
But in the end it all becomes…

Mother universe speaks,
She oozes energies and vibrations,
All which is a whirlwind,
Some dive in, find a common wavelength,
Hold on to the crest or peak and interchange
And let her unfold as she should, as she intends,
As she always has and will, till forever and beyond

Some race around her majesty
Trying to align with her whirlwind
On a quest to level up and take charge and
The role of captain, oblivious to the fact that
The whirlwind is infinite.
You just dive in, find a common wavelength
Hold on to the crest or peak and interchange

Trusting the process, relishing in the journey
Embracing the unknown and ambiguous
Is all that matters

That is art, a divine art
The art of becoming, becoming one,
Becoming the ultimate, becoming one with self,
Becoming one with matter and
Becoming one with the universe
The art of becoming