Before the breath, before the cry,
Where silent stars in stillness lie,
A pulse begins, a spark, a thread,
In quiet dark where dreams are fed.
The sea within, both warm and deep,
A drifting soul begins to sleep—
Yet stirs with whispers soft and round,
Of mother's voice and beating sound.
A bud unopened feels the rain,
The hush of joy, the ghost...
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