glory to the stars white pinpoints.
glory to the sublime dust streaks across the eastern sky.
Haley visits. so too the particles surviving the atmosphere.
and the shower we do not see sprinkled upon barren heads
and barren earth.
murky primordial soup encroaching the shore catches falling bits,
no ripple, no wave, no cause, no affect.
consumed and assimilated, they fall, with time, over time, within time,
without time, or the awareness, through thick liquid matter, settling
and collecting on the obscure muddy bottom.
waiting. silent.
suns rise and fall. meteors come close. volcanoes burst and spew. glaciers appear, advance, and retreat. matter gathers and seeks the light.
and one cell divides.
moist eyes look just above the water’s surface, moving left to right.
right to left, tail snaps fluid movement, left to right along the bank, at the foot
of the dry fountain.
the fountain gravitates and hums, yet no water is seen, nor heard, nor tasted.
the rising sun seeks to uncover, seeks to show. nothing more.
the setting moon dying, muted light, a gift given from the sun.
and with purpose or motivation, feet or wings
appear and a new epoch begins.
