To Live is to be Marked [Poem]

To live is to be marked. 

When we are born we are a fresh motion of the universe.
We are born an energy of overflowing newness

unleashed upon an ancient complexity of causes. 

We are thrown into a world of people who have been marked, 

and we delight them with our marklessness.
“All children are kind and forgiving” I have heard us say, us marked ones.
They speak of marklessness with a voice both joyful and sorrowful.
Joyful, 

because marklessness exists.
Sorrowful, 

because they know it is transient,

because

To live is to be marked. 

When we grow up the universe changes us as we change the universe.

Some of our markings are like scars from daggers, 

and other markings are like the sweet moisture that remains from a kiss.

The shadows of our memories follow us everywhere we go, 

conditioning our experiences, 

and those conditioned experiences themselves become new memories,

which further condition our experiences. 

To live is to be marked

to change, to become, to be wounded, to be touched,

to live is to be-born-die-and-be-reborn-again and again.