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I was his delight day by day,
playing before him all the while,
playing on the surface of his earth.(First Reading)
That squawk
in the pheasant’s
throat
was
aeons ago
when He thought matter
in space
(space
in matter
which?)
and whispered
to each atom His plan
a request
to join in dance
alone—together
with multitudes—apart
and part
forming
singular configurations—
a snowflake
repetition
without repetition
never to
be repeated
yet repeated—
kaleidoscopes
crowning
choruses with
consciousness
in that second—
eternity