Emergent World
He emerged from a giant agate egg at the edge
of time’s supernatural savanna, rubbed his eyes
so that he could observe what surrounded him,
barely able to differentiate between
the physical, ductile, actionable material
of which he seemed comprised, and all else
that occurred to him as he tramped alone,
perplexed at what self had been produced
from nothing, with no memory of any past
and minus faculty to contemplate the future,
only possessing faint instincts with which
to assess what any particular thing is or isn’t.
Some kind of experiment, prototype, perhaps
primitive parasite. It was way too soon to know.
He stood upright on two feet, hairy brute,
with foul breath, wandered across the terrain,
Homo Erectus Rex, indisputable master
of himself, encountering not a single creature
he resembled. The bright yellow ball above
of no apparent use for he felt not cold nor heat.
As refuge he sought damp caverns beneath
coastal cliffs where as days passed he dreamt
of planets whizzing by, basilisks and dragons.
That was the dinosaur in him, the crude animal
always astray without being openly conscious
of motive, method, purpose, cause, outcome.
A pure freak of nature he, product of chance,
nuclear physics, mind, consciousness, wind.
He might have been sociable if only existed
others to teach him, caress, guide, console.
Most species have parents, newborns teats
to suck, fur or flesh providing assurance,
but Homo Erectus Rex had no one else,
which made him incorruptible, unaffected
by serpents, insolent intruders, space aliens.
Evolution flowed inside and around him with
every breath, each step trod across frozen turf.
He had no beginning nor end, yet embedded
in the roots of myth, religion and mysticism.
If you believe in magic you might say he was
the original miracle, if not at least a nice try.
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