In the beginning the cosmos slept in
a bed called singularity.
Whether it was born
or just happened along no one knows.
How much is nothing?
How long is forever?
How dark is emptiness?
But then, a then happened.
An explosion,
and then time,
and then fire,
and then light,
and then life,
and then thought,
and then a question,
what’s happening?
And then
our eyes tell us,
the universe is expanding,
and then we find
the edge of the world
is going faster and faster
away from us,
getting bigger and bigger,
and we ask like curious children,
why?
What is it, world,
you’re running from?
Why is it you don’t stop growing?
Are you going somewhere?
Why do you scatter wings and eyes,
enormous hearts and tears.
Make valley’s surrounded
by bracelets of snow,
and fill them with flowers,
and never look back,
seeing us wave,
asking why.
Why do we have a fate
that starts and ends,
born of a will-o’-the-wisp
that has no soul?