An ochre broth in black lacquer bowl,
Steaming and opaque;
Warm roiling stew of tiny motes,
Stirred in their sultry lake.
Did life begin in some such pond,
Back when the Earth was young?
Cradled round by basalt rocks,
Scorched by a teething sun?
A world devoid of oxygen,
Lit by volcanoes’ jets;
And scoured by storms of meteorites,
Abraded to its depths.
Yet somewhere in that searing mass
Life’s chemistry was born;
Concatenating carbon chains,
And sugar phosphates formed.
This ancient replicating force,
Has ever since forged on;
Now plants and apes, microbes and worms,
All share that common dawn.
So as I sit here spoon in hand,
With sake in a cup;
I’m faced by my own origin,
And on my past – I sup.