In Reproduce and Multiply, the poet explores the spiritual, biological, and metaphysical dimensions of procreation, situating the act of reproduction not merely as a biological imperative, but as an expression of divine multiplicity and self-reflection. With characteristic fluidity, the poet moves between the personal and the universal, linking the human family to broader cosmic and natural processes.

The opening lines — “Our children / Are all parts of ourselves / Revealed to us / For all the world to see” — frame the child as both extension and mirror. This framing speaks to the spiritual psychology that underpins much of the poet’s work: children are not just individuals but living reflections of ancestral, emotional, and karmic lineages. This conception transforms parenting from a societal role into a revelatory process, a means through which the self is made visible, both privately and publicly.

The phrase “True reflections of ourselves / Projected outwardly” positions reproduction as an act of inner externalisation — not just physical replication, but psychic and spiritual amplification. The poem then seamlessly links this human phenomenon to a divine one: “We are also parts of God and the Goddess / Made in one’s own likeness.” This Judeo-Christian and pagan synthesis reinforces the poet’s broader cosmology, one that celebrates the sacred in both masculine and feminine principles, and sees humanity as a microcosm of divine unity expressed in plural form.

The triad “Man, Woman and Child” echoes archetypal imagery — the Holy Trinity, the Triple Goddess, or even the atomic structure of creation. Yet the comparison is then expanded in a surprising direction: “Like the amoeba and the virus / Reproduce and multiply.” Here, the poet disrupts the potential sentimentality of divine reproduction by including microorganisms, reminding the reader that replication is not a uniquely human or spiritual act, but a core principle of life itself — universal, impartial, elemental.

The idea of identity is then revisited and expanded with “Subdivisions of the big ‘I’ / In the ‘We Are’ and the ‘I Am’.” This is perhaps the poem’s most metaphysically potent gesture — a linguistic compression of mystical traditions. The “I Am” invokes divine self-awareness (echoing scriptural declarations of divinity), while “We Are” anchors that awareness in collective identity. The poet sees life as a grand act of fragmentation and remembrance — a divine being subdividing into infinite expressions, only to rediscover itself again through relationship, birth, and being.

The closing lines — “Bigger picture, master plan / Whether animal, mineral, vegetable / Or human” — return the reader to the wide-angle lens. Reproduction is not the sole province of humans; rather, it is a function of the entire living and material cosmos. By placing animals, minerals, and vegetables on equal footing with humans in the final gesture, the poet reaffirms a holistic and animistic worldview: that all forms are part of a greater unfolding, all equally sacred in the “grand design.”

Stylistically, the poem favours clarity over ornament, relying on accessible language to communicate ideas that are anything but simplistic. The rhyme between “I” and “why” in the early stanza provides a moment of gentle musicality, while the rhythm throughout maintains a steady, contemplative pace. The structure is linear but expansive, allowing each concept to build upon the last with cumulative resonance.

In conclusion, Reproduce and Multiply is a theosophical reflection on identity, creation, and interconnectedness. It invites the reader to reconsider reproduction not as a mere biological function, but as a divine principle of self-expression that spans all life forms. Grounded in humility and cosmic wonder, the poem offers a vision of existence in which all things — from children to viruses — are integral expressions of a single, unified source seeking to know itself through multiplicity.