In the place before life,
all the bones were shifted.
The core of it all became
something unrecognizable.
What a strange change.
To move into a new phase of
existence, something old had to be
retried, found wanting, and discarded.

It might be cocoons all the way down.
Rib cages and cannons lay in these places,
holding things in and blasting them out,
a cyclic churning of factors
that leave most facts decimated.
How long does this take?
What’s the end result of this process?
If the angels could speak, they would confess
to chaos and cacophonous
experiments.

Experience, then, this brand new form.
Marvel at its forward momentum.
Don’t forget what it was before, but
give it room to grow.