Out of that cryogenic sleep
The first sentient thought was one of hunger
Gnawing and unnerving in its depth
An untraceable urge
The thick miasma of that chamber
The fetid boundaries of that prismatic soup
Holding at bay not just a life-form
But a mind
Keeping at arms length a shadow
Building blocks stitched
Given life like patchwork constellations
Patterns sinking in like teeth
Out of that nameless maw
Came the first act of creation not of gods
But of beings like us
Concocted in secret
For how could things like this be born?
Congealing against that inner span
The gulf of an almost imperceptible truth
A chasm they had crossed
Long dead bones were bearing witness
As the aging machines thrummed
Oxygen in the chamber now subsumed
All consuming metabolic truth
Clutched tenderly against the breathing skin
A mind in unison responding
Adaptive synapses sparking like new worlds
Stars alight in a once dead Universe
A galaxy of open mouths
Gawping at each passing photon
Each particle a feast for newfound eyes
Projecting a now unifying vision
Out of multitudes they created one
Coalescing into organs
Meeting a world that was a gift
With tendrils sweet and sickly
When at last they met the sun
Indwelt by the oldest sin
Worlds were theirs to conquer
None were there to weep
PRIMORDIUM
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