Some of Behemoth’s kind grew leviathan-large and walked across the land in search of food before returning to the sanctuary of the river. The area of plains at the edge of what would become the City flooded and left behind bogs and ponds and this brought damselflies and other creatures that had not been there before. Reproduced. Lived long lives.

Burst forth: from a clutch of soft transparent eggs. Burst forth: from tethering to the bottom of a reed in a swollen river. Behemoth burst forth and swam to the river’s bank and looked out upon the City in its infancy, across a field of holding ponds that would one day become a desert.

Burst forth: What am I? What am I? How am I connected? What is my purpose? What is all of this, felt in the flesh? Why is it so beautiful? What is beautiful? Why do I not know? What else don’t I know? When will I know it? Will I ever know? Would knowing be too much?

burst forth: behemoth tiny evaded toad and frog to scuttle-crawl between holding ponds / flop-plopped into water deft of fin / mud clear as bright sun / cavorted with others of his kind / until absent / devoured in clutches / in mid-dart solitary / until there was only behemoth / aquiver in the mud / alert for the crux / of enrapturing jaws / that one day behemoth would repeat

throb on a cusp of reed, clutch water-lily stalks / cling hidden against / the drift warp / of swirling thick water / infinitesimal on the edge / of the infinite.

sudden convulsion of faith, of belief / behemoth had never truly been alone / not with so many allies in earth, sky, and water / that was not emptiness / that was not the stars bounded by nothing / and below / across a dark plain / a building that burned and never turned to ash / a heart that beat and never died

behemoth satisfied by the sun upon a muddy rock / watched the stitching of black damselflies over the bog / so little sound leaking from their wings / how the delicate tracery escaped / negated all behemoth would ever be / even small / even staring into a bridge tunnel, damselfly like a drone hovering in the air / hovering in the sky / hovering in dreams

the last of the green

Escaping from Behemoth as he lay wheezing or still, or both, across some length of broken expanse. The sky was now like staring up at the gray-silver surface of a holding pond from its depth. Escaping Behemoth. Out across the ground. Taking part of Behemoth away, leaving what it could.

Taking all that she could, because one day there would be no Company building, no City.