They whispered softly,
To the sounds of the Earth’s contractions,
Churning,
From within the core,
Coming forth,
From ancient layers,
Of gold and red and black,
Molten lava mixed with sulfur,
To create a new type of blood,
Molecules move,
Vibrations go through,
Their slender bodies,
Arms raised,
Hips twirling,
With the birth pangs,
Spreading like wildfire,
The soil shook up,
In tune with their chanting,
Four women grabbed fistfuls,
Baptizing the heaving valley,
With it’s own skin,
The ground revolted,
Pelting them with fossils and ore,
Yet they remained still,
Hands at the ready,
To help deliver,
The main event,
The fatal glory,
Of human consciousness.