“No, sure, my lord, my mother cried, but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.” (Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare)
On the date of my birth, I am reminded
that each of us came into being
amid pain and joy in equal measure,
that, not just endings, but also beginnings
are bittersweet affairs and challenging,
that, merry as we might be or pretend,
beneath the mirth, lurk tears and cries,
that wisdom is not so much a pursuit
as a pause in real time, a dash or cadence,
and in that pause is all that can be
known or sung or sighed or wept.
