by SE Bachinger

Long before we grasped for a hold upon terrestrial skin,

Before the echos of human song reverberated,

Fervent forces pulsed, a rhythmic memory,

Their hands, not ours, shaped the cradle.

 

Obsidian wove the tapestry of existence, fumaroles sighed ,

molten secrets etched in geological code

Eruptions and subductions eternally ebb and flow

Guiding evolution with untethered grace and gravity.

 

Upon this Petric stage we arose,

And, in our reckless march across eons,

Had forsaken the marrow of our origins.

 

Blinded by illusions of dominion,

We became no longer attuned to seismic whispers

We have forgotten sulfur’s tongue, and iron’s sagas

The dialects of deep-time now foreign

Replaced by the drone of mechanisms

Scaring the very womb that nestled and nurtured us.

 

Kinship is forged through elemental balance

This fusion, an ode to our origins and endings

Born from dust and molten breaths

We return to ash in the bedrock of memory

Yet they endure, ever-changing, ever-constant

Outlasting our transient presence, sculpting the contours of life

Eruptions punctuating the ageless rhythm,

Subduction’s sighs continue, in a deep cosmic exhale.

 

And for a brief moment we shared narratives in the strata of time.