Father Time races through the cosmos
blessing celestial bodies with age
whether recognized or assumed
but does time pass for him?
Mother Space, ever conquering the void
expanding the realm that the Father walks.
The spark of the beginning infinitely old,
but fresh as the edges of existence.
When the Matter Children inevitably die
and there is none left to perceive the Father,
does he stop to ponder
all that he's seen?
With the center cold and dead
does the Mother look back
into the deep darkness
and shiver?
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)
PoetryPoetry of varying subjects and construction, the second of three. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. Accolades: #1 Thought Provoking 2/26/2020 #1 Self-Reflection 3/22/2020 #1 Creative Writing 7/24/2020 #3...
