In the sleep of beginning again,
in the rough embrace of possibility
with time-capsules in our tea
and nothing to lean on

we come to the other side
of legend and story, try to enter
a place of origins.

Tuning the remote that is
its own real name, we're astonished
when the screen goes dark and snow
comes on to the whine
of some channel we didn't order.

No directions came with the sac
that delivered us.  When those waters
broke through the slit of arrival
we lost an ocean we can't
go back to, we who are slow to learn
that we are animals with many faces,
invited to this place on earth
that stains and glorifies,
called to make an offering.