Bang, smash

Old Sol burns through morning lace and mist
After circling,
Somehow placed to coax a blue-pearl world,
And we live.

Our star, our firmament
And we
were birthed in a collosal throe
Far from any memory

From an unimaginable,
dense pinprick.

Sol, its worlds, our eyes
watch red shifts as sun, earth
And we
Careen from other celestial bodies.

Ages later, a future generation,
Perhaps, may see a turn to blue,
As sun, maybe, and globe, maybe
And, maybe, we

Face the possiblity
of starting again.

Sun’s end, creation’s pause,
Return to smash,
Fill imagination, trouble dreams
And, we live.

[Thoughts on a morning walk after reading cosmology.]

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