A block of very old snow
Slid down the slope abruptly
With the speed and skittering
Motion of a tumbling squirrel.
Is or is not the substance
Of the world always alive?
Sun warmed and loosened the snow.
Sun generated the blocks
Of elements from which snows,
A whole planet, could be made.
Distortions in early waves
Began the star nurseries.
Life then, from the very core
To the flicker of my eye.
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