you. Given enough time, you know
all stones and bones defossilize,
enliven, and grow
again, again, again, spiriting
in cycles too vast for theories to vault.
to hide the fact you’re doing
and there’s no escape
but to dream that eons entwine,
infinitely packed without a care
for paradox or spacetime. Here, you stroke
with your little hours; here, you reach
the gods of everything.