Plasma thinned,
and I slipped free,
the first photon,
uncoupled from charge,
moving into clarity.

I carry the record:
fractions of heat,
ripples impressed
before stars were possible.

I travel still,
a line without end,
brushing detectors,
scattering into pattern.

Memory made in radiation,
not drawn in thought,
but stretched in grain,
a memento held in light.

What looks outward
is not gaze,
but field:
the universe unfolded,
as mind of the divine.