BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS PETER FORSTER

Zygote

Now just as there was once a single mote of dust that orbited a lonely star –a pirouetting zygote which then might find other whirling particles and stir into their tight and welcoming embrace to shape a growing embryo that’s wombed in gravity, accreting rock and gas until a planet forms – our infant world –where soon, inside a hydrothermal vent, there’ll be a single living cell which could be ancestor to all – out there in front of us, a cluster of genetic code –so, too, in that fallopian tube were you: a mote who’d be our future when you grew.