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.