Genesis &

Perhaps, the implication:
Let there be

A continuation

Of amber-mouthed aspen
Groves.

Let their descendants

Recount to each other
How every battered trunk

Stems from the same root.

Let the children love
Butterflies, even if some grow

To tear their wings. Meanwhile,

Let the despised
Moths find refuge among

The shimmer-song of leaves &

Within their own shadows.
Let the weepers say, May

My griefs molt into care.

& one day, let the time come
When creatures made

By rib & name be named

& unnamed,
According to their volition.

Let peaches be

Mirrors of sun & moonlight
Alike, the wispy

Fuzz of their skins

Become blazing
Needles of white days

Against a lover’s chin.

Let them not fear
The incoming

Rot. Let them not

Resent their devourers’ teeth.
Let the tenuous ones

With vague human hearts

Feel the entirety of those
Quivers.

Let the first language be

That of loneliness &
Let earth be fluent in it.

Let there be aching

For the fragrant tiger
Balm to have purpose.

Let it be possible

For breathing
To be

As slow

As the sipping
Of just-brewed

Chamomile tea

In a world filled with rows
Of coffee shops. Let

The wanderer

Lock eyes with a fellow
Wanderer to ask,

Have you eaten yet?

Let’s get you a warm meal.
& please, let it

Be a good one

For all
The others to come.