Life. Singular.
Too vast to quantify in plurals.
Universes clumsily composed in the percussive discord of a heartbeat.
The chiseled sculpting of mountains in the flimsy mists of breath.
Each iteration a spectrum of wonders.
The most perfectly mundane of miracles.
As cadences intone avalanches.
And our personal phoenix re-imagines itself from dust.
So much from the ashes of so little.
The ripples continue long after the stone settles in oblivion.