What are you?  
Not who (species, gender, name, profession, nation) But what?

Biologists: You are a puzzling monkey with a dazzling vocabulary.  
Medieval catholics: You’re a born sinner, suffer incendiary.
Reductionists: Pay attention to what is happening in your capillary!
Industrialists: You’re the system’s benefactor and beneficiary.
New Ageists:  Focus on the spirit, the body is temporary!   
Technologist: You will be surpassed by intelligence in binary!

I think they are all a little bit right,
except for the medieval Catholics.

You see
You are comprised of 38 trillion cells,
84 minerals,
23 Elements,
and 8 gallons of water.

You have been built up from nothing by the spare parts of the Earth you have consumed, according to a set of instructions hidden in a double helix and small enough to be carried by a sperm.  You are recycled butterflies, plants, rocks, streams, firewood, wolf fur, and shark teeth, broken down to their smallest parts and rebuilt into our planet’s most advanced living thing.

But what makes ‘thing’ move?
What makes it breathe?

The force that animates flesh.
The wind that moves the tall grass.  
The child at play with your human toy.  

You are a universe called ‘self’,
Adrift in the multiverse of embodied consciousness,
Keeping time in the megaverse of eternity.  

You are a single perspective of the collective,
Your experience is a snowflake in the blizzard of all time.  

You are the thimble in the game called Choice.  
The sum of decision, and the product of belief.
But of course, this game too has dice.    

You are a condensation of light, accumulating lumens.  
Your metamorphosis is photosynthesis,
Giving breath to your consciousness.

So forget what you were told in Genesis,
You are God.  
But check your ego, 
Because everything else is too.

Artist Credit: Louis Dyer

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