When the big bang went boom,
in a flash, the brightest light spread and inflated;
and so all was created.
The universe became an infinite womb,
a dark vast nursery,
to everything that ever was, or would ever be.
In a cold ethereal ocean of black,
the forces of gravity attract.
Cosmic debris, would collide and impact,
In the turbulence of that storm,
the elements would fuse together and form.
These infants grew, aged, and exhausted, finally collapsing,
their remnants left radiant and illuminating rings.
Intergalactic seeds strewn, for future offspring.
Cycles of life and death, eons in a breath.
The very fabric of space was stretching,
theories and equations abound, they’re all just guessing.
Is there an architect, and creator,
spying on the show below?
Comfortable above in his theater,
his master plan, for man; only one he can understand.
From where he resides, he watches and hides,
afraid to be discovered and known.
Sitting kingly on his thrown,
his subjects play it safe, cling to, do not doubt,but call it faith.
Take pause to consider, the question of first cause,
and the inference that it draws.
More and more questions arise,
with no conclusion to surmise.