There is an oh so silent process

There is an oh so silent process, 

nobody knows 
when human soul grows 
out of the dust in space, 
when spirit comes to life... 
A mother knows 
when belly's blessed 
and grows and grows. 

A body grows from soul 
then souls divide 
pushed out by body 
violently 
exist all multiplied- 

That's like my poem, 
where a spark 
like out of nothing flew 
and grew and grew… 

There is an oh so silent process 
which 
the spirit world adores, 
when meaning out of space 
expands, ejects, occurs, 
becomes all powerful 
and braves the flesh, the brain,

materialises and 
forms a mesh again, 
a mesh of further arms 
that reaches out and drives 
the old ideas away, 
becomes alive.