This day is about me
Everyone says so; it must be so; it has been so.
But they are wrong.
It is about you. It was always about you.
A mundane moment for the born
With little control over a beginning or an end.
But, for the one that was the passage,
For the one that the very universe works through,
For the form without which nature is brought to nought,
For you; A pass-over moment to the Divine.
Enjoined with it. Becoming it. Venerated for it.
It is about you. It was always about you;
Why did I not know that
How were we all so wrong?