I dreamed I was born

At a time, one day, somewhere

Among pain, screams, sweat, and blood

My dream was so unreal

Yet I felt alive, crying, breathing

My heart beating

And I was there, a newborn

Me, being held in the hands of destiny

With my arms open

Wanting to embrace all those people there

Witnessing the miracle

But then, later, later in life

When I had to prove my existence to a bureaucrat

I looked for those who have witnessed my birth

But none came up front to confirm it

Instead, they all denied having witnessed such a miracle

That may have happened

Once upon a time in their lives

Hence, a doubt grew up in me

Was I born, or was it just a dream I once had?

For in truth, I’m not quite sure now that all that happened

My birthday, I insist, the pain, the screams, the sweat

The blood

Me, being held in the hands of destiny

Wanting to embrace all those people there

Anyhow, it’s all blurred now, and in my memory

If I was born, I concluded, if it really happened

It was never a fact but a dream I once had.