Oversoul

If, like many forests sprung from one seed, 

we are born of one mind and die to one earth,

then I am the history of life. Imagine 

me, of dust, lesser of the sky, seas, galaxies, 

and the angels we strive to become, 

me, a child loved enough to be kept from dying 

young in the pit of poverty, now, the history 

of all life, all its beauty and ugliness, 

all its joy, pain, and suffering. 

Great and small, I am the purveyor 

of good and evil, penning a declaration 

of freedom and a deed of slavery.

I am the slave, the trader, and slave master, 

the maker and follower of the first dream. 

I am the history of one and many more. 

What, then, have I to say of the past?

Originally published in North American Review