Time Before Time

This morning I watched the cream swirl
around my coffee as the rising sun called

the desert back to life.

My coffee-swirling hand – atoms in a
choreographed dance

twirling on a spinning, tilting,
orbiting rock

covered by wandering oceans, rising peaks,
restless winds,

its rhythm metered by a lunar
ball of debris.

Two rocks hurtling through space, dodging
head-on traffic in

an endless tango joined by billions of
pulsating stars

a dance that began in the dark with a
solitary spark.

Yet I spend my days seeking stillness,
as if in that moment before sunrise,

as I sip my gently swirled coffee
I'm longing for a time before the spark,
that moment before we began
spinning, tilting, orbiting – dreaming 
of a time before time.

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