First, a spark in shadowed mire
a flicker, vague, of \"what is here?\"
No word for \"self,\" no sense of \"fire,\"
just instinct guiding, sharp and dear.
Then came the pause,a glance at sky,
a stone held tight, a thought that grew
\"this rock is hard, that stream runs by,
and I am not the earth I knew.\"
Words bloomed next, like flowers in rain,
tying moments to a thread.
We counted stars, we tamed the grain,
and learned that fear could be unsaid.
Now we map the very atom,
dream of worlds beyond our own
yet still carry that primitive rhythm,
the beat that led us from the stone,
to see, to know, to reach, to care
from dark to light, we rose aware.