A ribbon of amber glides over
the path.
Sun dives into the river's unborn mind,
this river, where there was
none before,
churning aggregates of nascent voices
flowing up my spine
and circling a time
when no myth could survive on its own.
As the monstrous
shapes of burnt and
broken trees,
struggle against
the cold,
crossing
the corpus
callosum,
leaping
from
me
to
me.