The Middle Step

200000 Before the fire, before the wheel, before we named what we

could feel the pattern in the dirt was a whisper

under skin something growing without words waiting for us to begin. Didn't land in

ships of light, didn't speak in tongues of flame, fell like dust, like quiet rain,

before we ever had a name. Spores in the soil, deep and slow,

thread through the bones of earth. Taught dead things to grow, taught life whar

death is worth. Thought the thoughts were all our own,

thought the visions came from God. Something older tuned the dial and left the signal