Beneath our feet

| 1 MINUTE READ | an accumulation of history

the history of the world lies beneath our feet
in layer upon layer of patient accumulation

recycled debris that carry the memories
of all that transpired on its surface

the rise and fall of kingdoms
the epochs of enlightenment
the brittle beads of sages, the surrender of forests

ash preserved bodies in Pompeii
of fathers and mothers
helplessness caught in the shape of their final postures

a 120 foot etching of a Peruvian cat on a rock hill
by ancient dreamers of a quixotic legacy
limestone commodes discovered in Jerusalem
along with the fossilized bones of a rich merchant that owned it

all symbols
of our material certainties
our collective capacity to dissolve our insignificance
into a cyclic endurance, an unending reassertion
to persist amidst
the preponderant constancy of extinction

everything is allowed
up to its moment
to gently disintegrate into its smallest possibility
a pause in the primordial corridors of stillness

until
shaken by a yearning to experience itself
it re-emerges into this realm of movement
as embryos soaked in a sac of splashing fluid
preparing for a short and seamless rendezvous
with the eternity of space, the mystery of time
the ephemeral arena
to which being returns
to occupy our bodies
and our battery of senses

the citrus scent burst while peeling an orange
the intuitive penumbra of our closest connections
the echoes of a long forgotten song
evoking emotions we must relearn to recognise

to taste once more
the fragile miracles of existence
until the mortal returns
back into the ground
and the immortal remains
as what it always is

a silence
that neither accumulates nor dissipates