Self Realization

so the story goes and I've been told by the griots that as a newborn, I stirred my finger in my own after birth and smeared the doctors spectacles and began telling his future while sending up prayers for the forlorn and downtrodden. That my soul was old and before its time and place...my hands up as if against a minority report window suspended by string theories that only graze the surface of what would be my existence in this form, in this lifetime, my lifeline bends like light energy piercing the darkness of catacombs where lay entombed the bodies of my ancestors, but their spirits fresh on my breath as I spoke with their tongues in languages unknown to man.