We Non Human Things

Long before the crust of the world had known water, had known trees or mortal life, birds of fire roamed the sky. Time passed; the world changed as out of singularity grew diversity. And so too, the bird of fire learned to change, losing one unending life to gain a thousand finite ones.

We are what’s left of them. Or so my mother told me.

It is said as a bird of fire grows, so do its flames: They will grow until it burns itself to ashes. That part she left out.