Genesis

Genesis

An egg beholds all that surrounds.

Troopers hold their positions,

Still, silent, in cahoots,

Strategizing down to the second

The next storm.

And that egg, however well preserved,

Can't hold a candle to its own predestination.

Slowly, surreptitiously,

The troopers charge,

Waving their flags triumphantly,

If but a little premature,

As one soldier after another

Slams head-first into the electric fence,

The egg's fortress, all mighty and venerable,

Engender despair now 

In the once-patriotic enemy camps.

And then, just as her bravado piques,

One trooper under the cloak of night

Breaches her walls as if utilizing a bayonet,

And no longer pure, she wails,

Her protective walls no longer shelter

To a world of supine activities.

Now, she is the bearer of new fruits,

The genesis of a things yet to be.