Chronometers Of Humanity Poem by oio ZIGA

When she rises, the incense still burns;
a quiet flame against the dark,
while the continuum endures,
unbroken, eternal.

She smiles; the supernatural
is not spectacle, but nature itself;
unseen, unyielding, unmistakably female.

In meditation, she stitches frayed timelines,
her mind a boundless realm
where phantoms and photons converse.
Some call it intuition;
she knows it as memory; genetic, cosmic,
the echo of her grandmother's heartbeat
guiding the rhythm of her breath.

Women, chronometers of humanity,
bodies inscribed with survival's almanac;
each childbirth, a defiance of entropy;
each lullaby, a whispered spell
against the pull of oblivion.