Manasaputra

Manasaputra they call It
He who is born of the mind
for have I not thought It into existence?

Bursting forth through the
dams of existence, gushing
as the river of Life, It springs
into Being

A son, A daughter
A child they say
born, Ayonija

No, not from my womb
for that would be no fun
with pus and mucus
that accompanies a foetus

Here the virginal birth
of my progeny is
clean and devoid of pain
to me and to itself

Just an exhilaration
of pushing It out
flinging It to a destiny
giving It an identity

Letting It breathe, with me, my story