Attendees at the game of the gods,
come in three
Pythogorean sorts:
First kinds are the lovers of wisdom,
the second are the lovers of honor and
the third are the lovers of gains. 
----------------
Ah, now, now

There is a demon
of the old kind attempting me
to lashout
my flagella and wipe my competitors from the stream
in this
only race that counts,

first and only, no second place in this race
to pass
through
into the egg, where life, as we know it begins.

All I brought, my entire being
as a cellulate entity with a will to win, is absorbed into
her.

Here, she perfects that which concerns me,
my will is done. I won.

Or did the others fail? Should I have slowed and let
another pierce this egg

and marvel at its works, while I am left useless forever?

Nay, or why would I retain this will to win?
Or this will to
calmly carry on, knowing now, this final phase in the course
of compleat being becoming,

slow and steady sets the pace,

right

up to now, k-pow, push meets shove and I win again,
recalling the joy when
I, the wiggly carrier of all that made me possible,

pass through your attentive staring, sorting egg-eye
maybe,

osmotical magical silliness wells up in me.

I was chosen. Or formed to fit, this
complex knot
lock meet for me, the key
ingredi-ant,

in ever stories provoking old men to grow on.
----------
Strange though it be, true,
Isaac Bashevis Singer inspires me, with words he left behind
for just this reason.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IsaacBashevisSinger>

Id see that
the remnants
of what once
was fiery blaze
Has now
seemed
to have been smothered.
I would notice
that
there was no movement
on the once
lively log.
That
the home
of the once
peaceful ants
was now
quiet,
empty,
no more.
A mere shell
and
a ghost
of once used to be.

I would see
this.
And without a thought,
i would
once again
set the log ablaze.

Id light the fire.
And id see
the ants
that might have
slept
through
the first calamity,
And i would wish them the best.

One of us.
One of us.
One of us.
One of us.
STRANGER!
Killkillkillkill;
Warwarwarwar;
EXTERMINATE!

In seeing,
as a child,
breathing blinded.

As we fail to remember,
what we want,
and need at that moment.

We are greedy as ants,
following the path,
striving for the same leaf.

We are small,
humbled by blue sky,
and the night stars.

Only then we remember,
who we really are.