I.
It begins with a split.
Then another,
then another.
Ever more,
increasing at a geometric pace.
Warm.
Nursed with fluid
passed through another.
Steadily now,
taking hold.
Beginning.
A pulse.
Suddenly,
and without
a single breath of air.
No larger than
a grain of rice,
a crumb of bread
an apple seed,
even.
And onward
it proceeds,
Gently cradled
Inside that dark.
waiting.
You might say,
living.
Later,
A hand.
now and then
it tests its grip--
squeezing.
Harsh tones
from somewhere
beyond
all thought,
or comprehension.
II.
Nothing that resembles "thought".
Just more of that constant and
all-consuming suckling.
Automated.
Senses too,
but
the manifold of perception
is indistinct,
alien.
From one there were many
and
E plurbus unum.
III.
What can now be called sound
is recognizable.
It shapes and it colors.
There is no vision.
Not even eyes.
Just vague impressions,
noises from beyond the black.
Nurtured in that ambient dark
raised in a primordial
translucent sea.
Larger still. Now
a sense of
difference.
Fostered adrift
in an inky space.
"must leave.
cannot abide this
constriction."
IV.
It is time now.
eyes open and are blinded.
blinded by that black
--ever pressing--
sense of
imprisonment.
All around
that pulse,
and sounds getting clearer.
It is time.
Push now.
Breathe.
And out,
into that blinding
light.
