Stephen Parman

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Probably andesite. Aphanitic, no apparent phenocrysts. Vesicular. Slightly oxidized surface.

The monkey sits. Perhaps it is tired. It is quite old. Far older than the hand that shaped it. Far older than people. Older even than the planet. And it is a restless monkey. Always in motion, always changing, always transforming.

It was born billions of years ago, inside of stars. Long before Earth existed. Primordial hydrogen and helium mashed by gravity and heat. An epic mosh pit forming larger, more interesting elements. Silicon. Oxygen. Carbon. Magnesium. Elements that can make planets, and humans, and volcanic rock. This is the first of the monkey’s transformations.

For millions of years, the atoms resided in the bellies of the stars. But all things die. And the stars died in massive, messy explosions (supernovas), flinging the monkey atoms into the expanse of the Universe. Some were accelerated to significant fractions of the speed of light. Not easy to do. No wonder the monkey is tired!

Then, for millions more years, or maybe billions, the atoms drifted through space. No purpose. No direction. A teenage monkey. Until one day the atoms felt the gravitational tug of our nascent sun and so began their transformation from dust to planet. They circled the growing sun, coagulating into larger bits, finally making mini-planets that smashed into each other with titanic force. The atoms of our monkey were incorporated into the proto-Earth through strenuous ingestion, heated from the coldness of space to temperatures that not just melted rock but vaporized it.