Grinding up and burying
the detritus of the past
while torquing in the next strata of
dust, time, and circumstance.
You can sense the moist tide of a cosmic brush,
shellacking us with a thick new biofilm,
submerging us in a growth medium
saturated and swimming
with new primordia.
In brief time, you can see brisk movement
in life's underbelly . . . .
A stark new future
writhing in its viscous broth
under the membrane of the present,
hungering for the vittles and sustenance
You can hear the sinewy, fibrous layers of the previous era as they are actively pulled asunder by the momentum of time, shucked to reveal the new nuclei, ripe and ready to spawn the bustling next epoch.
In this new stage,
we are the aged remnants
of previous dreams,
the spores of yore,
the arbiters of understanding,
dredging up the precious
treasures of yesteryear
resisting the envelope
of yet becoming vestigial ancestors
howling behind a dimensional m-brane,
sequestered by time and the unyielding procession
of life's endless cycle.
It's disquieting and curious.
Hopeful, and, yet, possessing of both the kernels of tragedy . . .and those of triumph.