"Though I'd Cherish Yours, You Wouldn't Want Limbs Like Mine"

A Vein is Not Just to Bleed
Reflections on the structures of living systems.
How minerals dissolved within superheated water sneak their way through prehistoric magma flows in order to inject whimsical personality into the igneous substrate.
How they then hibernate patiently for eons, to one day be exposed by the elements and admired by the beachcombing eye.
How they will one day be buried or metamorphosed once again, many millenia after we are all gone; a life cycle incomprehensibly greater than ours.
Meanwhile all manner of other living things live and breathe and die, leaving their artful veins behind on the shore to be admired as well.

At the Mouth of a False Discovery
We will all embark on some journey without knowing our destination,
Treading a fine surface between blinding light and ceaseless dark below,
And in those lost hours swimming across the Dark Night of the Soul,
We can only hope that the moon protects us until the Dawn,
When custody over our voyage changes hands once again,
In the unending cycle of chaos begetting creaton.