on this slide of a petri dish
sits a speck containing the DNA
for the birth of the cosmos

it drops predetermined as as fall leaves fall
egg cracks
yolk spills out
gooey, opaque                 suspended around a glowing yellow SUN,
                                                                                 a billion suns,
                                            a disk of ever-flattening, expanding life

It stretches. It yawns.
It cries for its mother.

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Out of it teems throngs of the tiniest colonies
whose kingdoms rise, rage, and fall

the sun burns out.
It takes an infinite eon for the dying stars to reach us and then what?

Planets freeze over, gravitational collapse ensues
we are suctioned silently into a black vacuum

All that's left, the smallest seed buried in a dark grave
waiting to bloom.

Death to Life.
A Resurrection.