Twelve Fold Chain

At last it started in the middle

Beginning as it all begins,

It forsook the source of things.

And that which flowed over

That which stayed,

And made the choice to form a standing wave.

It leaned out against the in,

Unfolding in a place call its own

And it gently draped six senses over

This house of cards that it built,

And opened ground the roots of touch

And let them in.

Incredible sensations

It was the insatiable feeling

Of a feeling of insatiable desire.

And all that it could do was hold tight

To that that it was not.

It told itself it needed names

And in so doing it became.

This is the birth

That everyone is always talking about.

The one assumed but not remembered.

But death does not forget.

The end will remind it to cure it of itself.