what could i say that i am?
by the time the raindrop is
illuminated,
by the fulmination from zeusian bolt,
it is already no longer
itself.
its every relation pours into this world,
sustaining this green world,
sustaining this vanishing world
lit up like our raindrop.
and what if light was merely the shell
of darkness?
in any case: there's much to do, and much that can be seen
before the next sets of species make a home of our cities.