A voice creates, rattling the dirt into self-knowledge.
Then one day the dirt speaks too.
That Adam, dirt-man responds to God in His own tongue is the miracle in Genisis
His voice meagerly rattles with puberty.
A back-talking primate born in rebuttal.
"...and whoever is born after him, for the sake of this deed he will belong to a higher history than all history hitherto."
Now alone amongst violent equals, one to the next they plot their rattling.
Snakes within, and build monuments to their newfound voice.
Soon it will crumble.
Soon their cocksure stone idols will fade like the Sphynx
While his brothers take their turns
To Ishmael a turn
To Edom a turn
To Britain, then America
To the Orient
Stones and sticks piled nearly to heaven
but for that final finger's inch
All of history an almost uttered word
Still his still pubescent rattling cries for salvation
Rattling more from duress than growth
Indeed: "Lightning and thunder require time."
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