Who will you be?

Spilled from the womb,

where will you wander?

Where will you go?

Who will you be?

Will you run rampant

or pass in peace?

Will you leave the world in ruins

or make ruins a thing of the past?

Will you be full 

of great music?

Will you die

wearing a smile,

enshrined in dignity?

Will you fall from a great height?

Will you be brought down gently?

Sourced from the earth,

spilled from the womb;

where will you go?

Will you be interred

or released as unrecognisable ash?

Carbon, and phosphorus, and calcium

and a hint of iron and other trace elements.

Will you live as a king

and roam the Earth freely?

Or will you kneel to kings

and squander it all in fear?

I don't know what you are.
All the elements that make you
cost no more than a few pounds in their proportions.
But the universe entire is inside you -
inside your eyes.
Do you see the light in mine, too?

Where will you go?

Where will you roam?

Who will you be?

Now do you see?

When your eyes first opened
they saw a fuzziness.
When they eventually close,
it might be the same story.

You're not perfect,
but you're not imperfect.
You're not worthless,
but you're not a thing of infinite beauty.
You are whatever you want to be.
You can be all that you desire
if you dream
but don't succumb to illusion.

Spilled from the womb,

where will you wander?

Where will you go?

Who will you be?

Dedicated to Terry Pratchett and the marvelous speech he gave on assisted death on February 2nd.