Like a jigsaw, our inheritance builds us, moulds us As individuals, hybrids, mongrels Never quite perfect, but perfect in our own way We are different from our kin, though parts of us are the same
There is a part of me that is my ancestry Therefore am I not free, am I unique?
I am imago We are imago We are all imago Imago
We carry traits of our relatives Through generations of gradual change We carry on the order natural chaos that binds us In to living, breathing human or not so human beings But our legacy, offspring keeps us searching through tinted eyes
There is a part of me that is my ancestry Therefore am I not free, am I unique?
