Every being has in it a reminder of its past.
The fruit has a stem that connects it to its branch.
When it is ripe and falls it leaves a scar.
We, like fruits, have our navel
Where we were once united to our moms.
Through the optic nerve, the eye is attached to us
From within a black hole, we call it the blind spot.
The universe too, has its belly button, its origin, its past.
The initial moment without time nor space, the Big Bang.
Consciousness as well has its own navel,
That which cannot be known.
The origin of all things that language fails to describe.
That which cannot be named,
Our linguistic blind spot, we call Jehovah.