This miracle planet filled with life irresistibly arising from the inanimate, a chunk of motley stardust learning how to see itself. How did awareness blossom, escaping from crucibles of mathematics, physics, chemistry? What does the planet think of its experiment now that it is overrun with undisciplined, invasive monkeys?
Feb8
Thinkings 
I love the language you use in your first two sentences: “the motley stardust learning how to see itself”, and, “How did awareness blossom, escaping from crucibles of mathematics, physics, chemistry?” Your prose writing is poetic, in the manner of Joy Kogawa’s, and others who were poets before becoming better known for their short stories or novels; worth reading and remembering…though I’m weak on the latter suggestion.