First Ones

Ash.

Soot.

Dust.

Cinders.

Cover the landscape.

Undisturbed.

It would seem.

For decades.

Deep in the distance stands a towering blackened forest.

He stares.

It stares back.

No intention to comfort.

No intention to care.

It dares him.

Step forward.

He demurs.

Steps back.

A leaf a green tumbles over his shoulder.

Floats down the front of his chest.

Comes to a rest.

In the open palms of his hands.

He holds his breath.

It is there.

Waiting.

Before him.

He feels its warmth.

He knows.

It is no longer a baby bird.

It never was.

That was a disguise.

One he would recognize.

It is more.

Much more.

Nervous.

Not sure.

What to do.

What to expect.

His heart valves open.

His heart valves shut.

Pump blood as fast as they can.

He breathes in a thicker.

Richer.

Different kind of oxygen.

Still…

Even after.

The garage.

The climb.

The mist.

He questions his worthiness.

To be here.

In its presence.

The sacred.

The essence.

Slowly.

Shyly.

He lifts his eyes.

A golden globe greets him.

Spins.

Unfolds.

Reveals itself.

Legs uncurl.

Feathers unfurl.

A chin untucks.

Two grand eyes open up.

Two wings stretch.

Long over due.

They span and span.

It floats in close.

Studies him.

It taps his forehead with the tip of its wing.

herald

His mind goes dark.

No movement.

No sound.

No stars.

A sun flicks on.

Illuminates a planet.

IMG_5776

He hangs in space.

High above it.

Pools, ponds and puddles pepper the land.

He dives.

Flies.

Arms stretched out.

Low.

Over them.

Shards of his reflection ripple back at him.

Pools of Possibility

A bit of the cosmos roars into the atmosphere.

Trails magnificence in its wake.

It plummets.

Craters.

Awakens the planet.

Debris rockets up.

Rains back down.

Pools, ponds and puddles boil.

Steam.

Parent clouds for the light blue morning sky.

A spark.

Burning bright white.

Burrows into the crater’s base.

It puts forth shoots.

They lengthen.

Tangle.

Dance excitedly.

Intermingle.

Ball up.

Fill up.

Flow out of the crater.

In a messy.

Spasmodic.

Overlapping.

Racing pace.

They spread throughout the blast radius.

Pods at the tips of their ends.

Split.

Dry out.

Leaves unfurl.

Beings within glide out.

Not meant to stay.

Just to assist.

Pop the top of the pods.

Tufted seeds fly out.

Air currents catch them.

Disperse them in every direction.

Tufts take flight

They skim over.

Skip across.

Sink into.

Pools, ponds and puddles all over the planet.

Trees.

Magnificently diverse.

Fantastically combined.

Rise.

Dripping wet.

Droplets fall from their canopies.

Grasses.

Flowers.

Moss.

Vines.

All kinds.

Burst into existence.

Wave after wave after wave.

The First Forest envelopes the planet.

IMG_5782

He pursues its ever expanding latitudinal green line.

It is then that he sees.

Twin pines anchor the east.

Someone sits underneath.

Whoever it is.

He pinches off a blade of grass.

Puts it between his teeth.

Chews on it pensively.

Mountains anchor the west.

Vistas.

Canyons.

Rock formations.

Another one sits.

She is fierce in presence.

Together.

They bring balance.

Order to chaos.

The moon gives chase.

The sun runs away.

Ends the First Day.

Fireworks of white.

Tufted seeds.

Light the night sky.

Both lift their eyes.

“Where do you want to go?” they each ask the other.

One sets to speak.

It lifts the tip of its wing before the answer is given.

His mind leaves the past.

Fills with the present.

“The First Ones” he whispers.

It nods.

They nuzzle their foreheads.

Breathe each other in.

He fills with love.

It flaps its wings.

Slowly.

Gracefully.

Ascends.

He holds its gaze as long as he can.

Blinks.

An arc of gold streaks away.

Grows wavy.

Spreads.

It bends over the blackened forest.

He steps forward to follow.

Two figures.

One large.

One smaller.

Exit the forest.

Point at him.

He opens his fingers.

Offers his hand.

To someone beside him.

To someone behind him.

He wants someone to take it.

Please take it.

No one does.

 

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