You take up space & have a mass.
Matter made of various molecules & atoms
You are stardust
A result of massive explosions in galaxies
Are you completely gone?
According to the conservation of energy
which states that energy cannot be created or destroyed
but can be altered from one form to another
you’re a little bit less orderly
According to decomposition
a proccess where organic substances are broken down
into much simpler forms of matter
you have been recycled by invertebrates, fungi & bacteria
to help continue the circle of life.
It is impossible to know simultaneously
the exact position & velocity of your particles
And so you can’t be put you back together
But you’re back where you belong
Forever consistent in space and time
Back in the atmosphere

The moon is high and bright tonight
Quietly lighting the earth around me.
My skin scrunches together
As a chilly breeze steals warmth from me
The only sound heard
Comes from the invertebrates in the trees
And the closest heartbeat is a mile away
But there is something out here
It is a creature; a creature of habit
Always hunting only those who are solo
It is a sly creature
Creeping up on its prey silently
It will drain every drop of happiness
All dreams, all plans, all loves
Will fade away from the victim
Slowly the numbness absorbs me
And I do nothing to hinder its progress
Soon I am consumed in the cold darkness
I know this creature
This creature is loneliness

Nearing great compost pile,
that steamy heap,
insatiable hunger hits guts.
And I know fortitude for journey
is contained in wealth of
centipedes, predatory mites,
rove beetles, ants,
nematodes, protozoa,
and **** of wriggly worms.

Virgil waits for me, as he did Dante.
He takes form of a sowbug,
but with whole of worldly wisdom.
Shows me circles to which I will fall:
organic residues,
primary consumers,
secondary consumers
and further tertiary consumers.
An ancient pyramid decompositional
processes the scaling down
before the rising up. Each eating
excrement of another before them.

One I become with slugs and snails.
Invertebrates shred meat from bone.
Flies make airborne my bacteria,
carrying me off to feed birth of
future fungi.

I am reborn over and over.

Never more have I known
anything more Godly.
Intestinal juices of earth, enzymes
and other fermentation
taking me down,
pushing me out,
transforming trash of my existence
back to Eden.

Varied species of the kingdom

Across our earthly home

From sponges to the octopus

Without a backbone



Laying small eggs

Or a centimetre long

Astounding invertebrates

There outer skin is strong



Upon an organism

There they choose to lay

Eggs for a food source

Paralyse their prey



As the insect grows

So rapidly within

A time of which to moult

Remove their outer skin



The expanding colony

Survival of the team

Young bees evolving

From a single queen



Shed their exoskeleton

Insect crawling out

Expansion of their wings

Body drying out



Beginning as larvae

From the eggs they hatch

Dramatic transformation

Metamorphosis match



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©

Vertebrate beginnings,
I collate each chordates morphological traits
Striving to understand their profuse, evolutionary attributes.
Memorize the fusion of Latin and Greek roots
Interwoven just enough to complicate
Instead of differentiate inarticulate invertebrates.
Inhibitions confine to an educational institution
Discombobulated and ready to *******
graduate.

Still water runs deep,
But the puddle remained,
Ripple less
To take turns to look in the reflection,
of the backrounds sound that reverberates across the landscapes.
Twisted invertebrates,
You still got my back?
We’re stuck in the mud,
up until our waist.
As the sunsets' behind,
I can’t look over,
my dislocated shoulder,
blades,
slice and sharpened,
by pebbles grains,
and then
skimmed across the puddles
so only ripples remain.
Though they soon disappear,
into the stagnant grasp
of fear and statuesque
placid, tranquil times.
In a hushed halycon,
hedonistic slices of life.
Still water runs deep,
but I drown in the shallow aqua,
in the afterlife of undulation.
The aftermath of the ripple effect.

The forest is waking.

Pines and cedars
are greener than ever
while the oaks blossom.

Robins and blackbirds
chirp in earnest
scouring the leaf litter for hiding invertebrates.

The air’s stillness is swept away
by a gentle breeze, cooling my skin
heated by the sun.

Other than that,
there is only silence,
a good silence,
a slowly-rousing-from-winter silence.
It’s beautiful.