First there was nothing,
piled upon nothing.
Desolate oblivion,
stretched out forever,
immutable and infinite,
but for a single point,
a speck,
a pinpoint prick,
solitary within this epitome of void.
That fecund mass,
eternities ago,
birthed our boundless universe
in coruscating glory,
sending forth the galaxies-to-be,
in torrential waves of splendor.
First there was nothing,
piled upon nothing.
Now there is much
and we in the middle,
blithe spirits on a crowded world,
spinning in a crowded universe
that will grow ever colder
till existence is defunct.
It began with a bang.
It began with a bang.
It began with a bang.
And it ends,
not with a whimper,
but a shiver.
YOU ARE READING
Animus, poetry from the veil
PoetryPoems of mystery, imagination, and self-discovery. Love, heartbreak, revelation, and celebration are presented in this very personal collection of verse. The poetry encompasses a variety of poetic styles, each tailored to convey emotional impact and...
