Where does the cycle begin?
Does rain fall first and then evaporate into the clouds?
Or do the seas rise upward to fill the sky, moistening the air  particles.
I’m more water than matter but my feet carry me,  a walker not a fish.
You need male and female to create a child.
Where did the first child come from if there were none before?
I was an adult before I was child,
My own children taught me to play.
Why is it that life is almost at its end,
When we begin to truly live?
On days that rush forward
I push back and devour 
Dessert and skip dinner.
A moment of rebellion
A dietary sinner.
I rise before the sun
To see the moon
Descend and wave me on.
I catch a glimpse of the end,
Before  beginning.
There is no pattern, 
Order to beauty
The chaos within
A maze turned spiral,
A slow-moving snail.
Polished by time, even before
The pearl is inside of the oyster
The waves salute the moon
Wash over and through,
Rise up to the sky
And beauty rains.

Abbe would love to hear you thoughts and share her novels and essays. You can find her athttp://www.abberolnick.com