Limbs, of tubular structure,
Green, nimble and searching,
Curves around a body, where,
probings nulled a bending least resistance.

Tiny arms. reaching out and about,
noting past, tangling with the now,
Here moving; a sweet spot for future,
The transition zone of seed-sowing creation.

Fingering tindrils, how oft lay,
Way to the side, tilted,
groping dark up a slope,
seeking soft crevice, a mineral deep throat.

Plant stuffs closes its eyes too,
a hinted, tinged, midnight cerulean blue,
Of chemicals back-traced before an Eve,
and before wolf ever worshipped moon.

Half-completed genetic code,
the future lines sequence the rest,
Plants had a running start,
Left early. Id, we walked right,
With two different directions...
Who'd agree to reff. the fight?

Open brain/closed mind dichotomy,
Maybe Thoreau was on to something,
I've never had the mind to quote,
So just reflect on embryology.

Eons of evolution, packed into,
nine months, plus a God, Oh!
a few moments sets a human process,
Of end, almost nothing is known.


One sided? the brain split twain,
but even two processor cores,
or billions, do little more,
than open or shut sexual gates.

Maybe it's bad evolution,
--God just didn't care,
about lacking a doorknob,
on the threshold of consciousness.
But broader perspectives of plants and animals,
leaves nothing in man, no 'I' to scare.

Sweet emptiness, a thirst rather fills,
Trickles so soft, all gently down low,
Off side of barreled moon glow,
Stored for draught, that of souls' sap.

Venture forth, onward! dear brotherly,
evolutionary tracts. Find simplicity,
quality, fervor and tact,
But what-where-whenever,
Never look back.