Bodies

When we were liquid
and our bodies flowed,
we dribbled down into
all the crevices
we could find, 

seeing, feeding, dreaming
of every new dark to make light,
of all the new sunsets to make night.

When we were molten
and our shapes soft,
we rose from underground
to embrace the air,

sensing, needing, forcing
each molecule to flow,
each new memory to be known.

Our bodies,
former selves,
cooled and heavy, are now
hardened into shells.