GREY ROCK DEAD AT BIRTH

I refuse to think it was a tabula rasa
So I will count from conception.
Speaking to itself it grew and outgrew itself.
There was a blueprint then a red print.
It needed no instruction in science
Or dusty jacket of booming oratory
Or dreamy eyes of academic crush
An innocent heart throbbing for completion,
It spoke to itself and built walls and limbs
Carved beauty curves hard and soft
Tissue with rivers running through
And mobile pillars connected big and small.
Then there was light and the rock turned grey
With parrot defecations
Grey matter dead at birth