Try, try to think a little different
Nothing by great Gods was built
But the Creation, it created itself
Cells, fibers, energy and heat
She spins inside a cloud, the Earth
Swollen, to heat she stretches her limbs
Ah, the Mother's ready, she’ll give birth
Yet she arches her womb
She wants a children and she'll have it
Children of earth and electricity
Gray layers of lava and corals
Skies wеt and without colors
Here, the world is brеathing
Moss and lichens, earthly green sponges
Act as a greenhouse to the bud that will come
Shapeless beings [which] the sea vomits
Propelled in piles on putrid beaches
The turbid herds, which Earth hosts
Crawling they climb on their fellows
And time will change their flaccid bodies
In shapes useful to survive
A scant sun stempers the green
Between young ferns loaded with spores
And free sounds in circle move
Acoustic spirals in the virgin air
And I - stupid - still believing
To those who say to me that flesh is dust
And if in the fossil of an atavistic skull
I rediscover shapes resembling me
Then Adam, no, he can't exist anymore
And seven days alone are too little to create
And now tell me if my genesis
Was [made] of other men or of a quadrumanous
Adam is dead by now, and my genesis
Is not of other men but of quadrumanes
High, arabesque-ing, an halcyon
Screeches over scotch brooms and the sea
Now the Sun knows who to warm