Primordial Observation
The light flew
through the gaps in the leaves —
black holes
in the fabric of the cosmos,
the rays bending around,
some escaping
in flickering relief.
They flickered
and glimmered,
moved about —
leaves now shadows
on the deep brown earth.
She waited patiently.
Her head cocked
to one side.
The single visible eye —
a deep earth brown
with a golden circle
in the centre.
The entire image
one of primordial intelligence.
He watched it all.
He could see his reflection
in her eye,
staring back at him,
distorted
by the convex lens
to larger proportions.
He too was patient.
He too noted the light
and its strange dance
in the leaves —
the cosmic connection
not lost on him.
He and she.
Pronouns.
Subjects and objects.
Things
in the endless,
boundary-less cosmos.
His breath —
a gentle in
and out.
An expansion,
then contraction.
Diastole.
Systole.
It touched her.
She did not notice —
nor he
her gentle breath
as he inhaled it.
But he knew it somehow.
Did she?
This almost intimate connection —
a short, shared breath
in time.
Boundaries vaporised
by the numinous breeze.
He watched
in silence.
Then held his breath
as she flew
skywards