Everything is made of stardust,
stardust is what we are.
Scientists mystics and
midwives all agree;
We are all stardust – all things.
You are for sure; I’m certain about that.
Slipping from your own inner universe
and arriving head first in this odd place
in a squash and a squeeze of worry and heartbeats.
Here you are, undeniable; a little pink puddle
of perfection; attached detachment.
Some midwives can see reincarnation.
“You’ve been here before” she said
and smiled that knowing smile.
I could see what she meant and leaned
forward for a closer look.
Then you sneezed and a bit of stardust
from someone else went in my eye.
I cried before you did.
“Do you want to cut the cord”?
“No thanks”, I said.