The report… like a vast stone gun;
the old tree’s trunk, cracking and splitting.
The night retraced its onset, the day held back its flow.
And from the fissure an ineffable being was born.

Twilight reigned throughout its emergence;
rising on too many wings,
beholding the world… with too many eyes.
Singing a song that was made before time.

The old tree’s trunk cracked and broke,
and the singular creature long held therein…
rose to elicit the sky’s caresses,
perfectly emitting the song of before.