I'm leaving the Club

while a gifted moon,

doing her job, happens

like clockwork in a dark-blue sky.

I remember sperm and egg

- that we (luminous beings) - occur -

and then enter a given old name.

Not our Truth – no - that’s a frying pan flaring

suddenly – forging up and out

one day - when we remember to recall,

beyond a social club, our One Real Name.