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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Coffee with Cosmos

I put away the dishes,
completed household tasks
and asked cosmos in
for coffee.
I asked if it would mind
sharing with an infinitesimal,
and offered cream and sugar.
Then we talked.
What’s it like being born? I asked.

I don’t recall the beginning,
cosmos said,
careful not to bump the ceiling.
I heard one star call to another,
I was born then.
What were you before?
Nothing, cosmos said. Nothing.
I was born suddenly.
There was nothing before. Nothing.

What are we then, I asked?
A clock, the cosmos said.
With a heart,
a way of telling time,
counting down infinity and having coffee.
I looked outside, killing time.

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