(My conception, and yours,
were truly immaculate.)
First, we are made of words.
Flesh and blood follow.
We were conceived not
when some wild and reckless
sperm swam past mind-boggling obstacles
to fertilize an egg,
but when our parents first
looked into each other's eyes
and murmured, 'I love you.'
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/electrical-mysteries-of-heaven/
