Those Eureka Moments Poem by Christopher Woodall

Before the day a warm breeze
Lifts dark condensation away
From beneath broad leaves,
Emancipated grasses straighten
And shot-silk petals shivering blink
Awake from dreams of bees and rain.

At this frontier living waves whip
And recoil across my white feet
Stroking me deeper into the strip
Between elements, a silent commune
With all that is offered by the night
Under a vanishing ivory moon.

Faint creases of light fold overhead
Forming an impression of clouds
Through the new starless depths.
The wind has wound her loveliness
Around distances leaving only
The anticipation of hot breath.

An eruption, some primeval vent
Opens and the sun is drawn
From the earth-furnace incandescent
By immeasurable unseen hands.
When the earth mould is cracked free
It is hung as a beacon for man.

Now annihilating fire rolls without
Recoil, throwing objects up
From their shadows; Pages crowd
With populations imagined.
As the robust flesh of night is torn
And the stuff of conciousness fashioned.