Electric bags of flesh fall into Earth, afraid
They are worlds unto themselves
Each one
creating Death and Life
Blood and Bone
The Earth opens, not angry
She quakes her spine and gives great cyclone yawns
She thrashes her tsunami arms out to wake up
Blood and water are the same
She awakens and they fall in
Love and Music and Laughter and Shame
fall off the mountain into her
They are confused by it, and grieve
She has woken up, and buries the dead
Blankets of blood, pillows of bone
Tiny worlds continue walking the earth
Her indifference carries their morbid weight
They carry blood and water from zenith to desert
An Earth Open must readjust her posture, aloof,
to keep little worlds up as long as she can
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