On the pad of my thumb
are whorls. whirls, wheels
in a unique design:
mine alone.
What a treasure to own!
My own flesh, my own feelings.
No other, how ever grand or base,
can ever contain the same.
My signature,
thumbing the pages of my time.
My universe key,
my singularity.
Impress, implant,
I am my self
of all my atom parts I am the sum.
And out of my blood and my brain
I make my interior weather,
my own sun and rain.
Imprint my mark upon the world
what ever I shall become.