Autobiography.

Inside my egg there was so much to see,
a frog by a pond, and a crow in a tree,
a bear licking honey, three mice and a flea,
and sights never seen, not by them, not by me.

How big is this egg? asked the frog to the bear,
but the bear could not answer, for he did not care.
We don't think it matters, squeaked the mice, over there,
to the crow, who decided to see, from the air.

So I jumped from the tree and fell into the skies,
and discovered no limit to what filled my eyes.
I think it's as big as the biggest of size,
squawked I, to the frog, and continued to rise.

Soon all the egg was left far down below,
and the heavens now opening, continued to grow.
While the air became thinner, and progress was slow,
still I climbed ever higher, still wanting to know.

With a crack, I ran into the edge of the shell,
and pecked it a few times, really doing quite well.
And when I was able, I popped through, and fell,
and discovered this thing that I now want to tell...

For my egg was the same, both without and within,
but to tell it, I don't quite know where to begin.
There are parts of the shell quite especially thin,
where the light from forever comes streaming right in.

If you look very hard for the light that is there,
you will find that it leads you to everywhere.
There are frogs, there are mice, there are crows, and a bear,
there is honey, a tree, and a great deal of air.

And this is my little autobiography.
From an egg to a crow to a life in a tree.
With a great deal of noise, just to fall silently,
to be right where I am, is just right where I'll be.