The birth of anything

All things,

before things were that separate

from each other,

were from before . . .

And before then,

all things in secret worked together

as one . . . maybe there as one thing . . .

as one planet . . .

well as the universe . . . really.

But now, upon human discovery,

yet secret as though not revealed before,

(to humans that is)

now all things

are in the secret of thingyness,

and succumb.

By the marvel of human perception,

knighted into meaningful existence,

every thing is ordained into an order.

As so perceived is as so conceived.

As if all things came from thinking of them,

thus the birth of anything

is now the incidence of recognition

and is so . . .

from the outside . . . looking in.

We would rather have seats to sensing

and not really be there.

We would rather name and describe

to what just recently happened

then be incomprehensively

but sensibly of it.

We would rather be

the imminent recent past

then be of no ‘thing’ in the now.

Really . . . the birth of any thing

is a small death

into a muffled now

of human acknowledgment . . .