Not aware

Not aware yet of what lies inside the nine,

of the fervour that borders on the divine,

Not aware that I made you from scratch,

and unknowing of all the ways that I detach.

Not aware that you are mine,

no matter how much you decline,

not aware that I can make-be,

all of the things you do not foresee.

And I know, oh, so much,

and youknow, oh,  so little

so you run from my touch

because it seems brittle.

But just as I made the sun birth today,

I will make-do one that shall not betray.

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