No sky split open that evening.
No morning star
rose from the dark.

It was my own ribs
that could no longer contain
the light.

There was no warning.

Only a trembling beneath the bone,
a pulse too fierce
to remain obedient.

The silence cracked first.
Then the doubt.

What burned was not the world 
it was the shell
I had mistaken for myself.

And when it split,
there was nothing from heaven 

It was I
who broke open.