Editing Song of Ourself

 Song of Ourself
 by Isaac Wilder


Have I felt so proud, to get at the meaning of freedom?<br>
Have I stopped and tarried in the rhythm of our new awakening?<br>
<br>
We are a creating thing, creating things,<br>
we are a burning thing, burning things,<br>
we are a liberator, come not to claim.<br>
<br>
We wake to the sound of our own breath,<br>
drawing slowly near from the dawn that surrounds us.<br>
We wake to the sound of our own hearts,<br>
echoing the ancient rhythm of slave-beaten drums.<br>
We wake to the sound of the city beneath us,<br>
which ebbs easily, and lazily, and in syncopation.<br>
<br>
Do you feel the pulse of this consciousness,<br>
what wakes behind our eyes before they have blinked?<br>
<br>
Do you embrace the pulse of the-that-without-end,<br>
as the genesis of our own pulse?<br>
<br>
Even here, with this impulsive erection,<br>
of city walls, and city halls:<br>
I have never been so proud, to get at the meaning of freedom.<br>
No. Never.<br>
<br>
I will stop a while, and let the slithering riptides subsume me-<br>
subsume me. <br>