Memories of Origin

Five eggs beat within me:
three with caterpillars... weaving wings,
two empty... still promising.
A dove descended,
and awakened the memory in my center.
But you...
were the sixth.
You slept outside of me.
As if love could not contain you.
And yet,
I recognize you.
You are mine.
You are the beginning of oblivion...
and also its redemption.
The seventh day was not rest.
It was return.
When the six became one again.