And How Shall You Drink Today?
(found this in an old journal, pasted it in about 1995--did not cite the writer, wish I had. This was not written by me.)

And a question forms within me:
given the choice, what would I choose--
the ups and downs of life or the comfort of the womb?
My answer will tell
if I have what it takes to be born again.

I can do no more than be born again
than I could be born the first time.
But two things I can do.
One: I can give myself the nourishment I need.
A child that is born before being formed will perish.
I must stay in touch with the things,
the places,
occupations, persons
that bring me joy and love and beauty.
I drink deeply at these fountains now
with gratitude, without guilt.

Two: I can jealously preserve
my freedom and autonomy.
I must learn to hold on
to those fountains that I drink from
and not get stuck;
to enjoy and not possess;
seek nourishment and not sink roots.
For I must always be in readiness
to move when the time for rebirth comes.

And here I squarely face my fear,
for it is fear that kills my freedom
and makes me cling.

I think how I shall drink of love today,
and joy
and peace
and pleasure.