There are no words in this land.
It is too young,
the waters only just subsiding
from the rock of this raw Eden.

Here, in a place before thought
before man was shaped of clay and bone
hands are the only speech, and lips,
each kiss a wellspring of discovery made flesh.

There is no sun here to blind and dazzle,
no moon to divide night from day
or self from self.
There is no time in this place.