human history

There was a

moment.

Singular in time and

floating.

Motion derived attention,

growth and

speculation and then somehow,

some intention.

And then that moment,

broken,

was divided into spoken tokens

past down then at one time

written, collected, inspected

corrected

perfected,

then collected and written again.

And so that moment moved on

and as a dustbin does

it fills with forgotten aspects

things that were not

important enough

to write down.

And so that moment, all grown and

performing itself as a shadow

watching itself now

reenacting the process that brought it here

hastily searching,

security skirting

noticing death is flirting and

working its way into

anonymity within its own mind.

lost.

In a sudden the fullness of itself became so heavy

that it buckled, and pieces,

which were once attached firmly

were shaken loose and scattered

in seven directions

as it came to its knees

under the total dominion

of Culmination.

Dust then, but still time flies

and moments pass on grabbing one another

playing and recognizing

dancing and creating

and oh, that symphony

which was once just played by one

harmonizes with itself and explodes

and grows again.

exactly the same.

And so there was a moment,

however long it seemed

however large

however varied

it filled and burst along its seams

designing its own death

and delighting in it

as tomorrow always is

to eat up what just happened

turning it to what it all becomes.

That moment, challenged to exist,

uncaring of consequences

containing all things yet somehow

still created,

as there is always Something Greater,

the Designer Of The Future,

the Founder and Constructor of the moment.

Something made to be so full

so heavy and unstable

that by its very nature

must

collapse.