Part III, The Beginning

I am not entirely certain about this as a beginning, since it seems to conflict with a few assertions I made about Time in Part I. But I will think about it over the weekend and see if I can come up with a solution.

Not right now. I am finished with writing for today. I am tired and cranky and want to go home to bed.


Takaaki, part III


Becoming human takes a bit of time.
Nobody knows exactly how we do it.
We classify the clock as the enzyme
Responsible—the catalyst. Through it
We cease to be that seemingly divine
Lump of life, we call “a baby.” Fine.
We can cope with grown-ups pretty well.
What gives Society headaches from Hell,
However, are the differing results
We get: when lanky Adolf, after school,
Shows up with smoky goggles at the pool—
Gene pool—our stomachs will do somersaults.
"Perhaps he’ll drown," we hope. Hope never helps.
Hitler makes History like Michael Phelps.

It's true, careers of creatures like him are
Olympic in brutality, but short—
From the perspective of a stone, or star.
Were we less human, pain would not distort
Our memories: they would be equal. Stones
And stars. Our graveyards would be free of bones
Also. Unless you count the grains of sand
Twinkling between your toes, when you stand
At Coney Island, watching the Cyclone—
The roller coaster—going up and down,
As salty waves insidiously surround
Your feet, washing it away. It’s gone.
The twinkling. The stars and stones stay here
As monuments. The twinkling disappears.