I

Have made

Myself

Become

What

I am

Through
Time

A single bird
Flies
From one pole of our planet
To the other

In one year

An new hatched cuckoo
Will push
One egg
After another
Out of
Its borrowed nest

Until it
Is the sole surviving infant

Fostered
By birds

Of another feather

Survival
Is older
Than all collected memories

Achieved
A multitude of ways

History
Is
But a second
When measured
Against
The age old battle
For life

We walk
A tightrope

Each body
Bears its scars

And years tick by
So...

Softly

I cling to fantasies
Whilst travelling
One step

Then

One more