Long ago,
A pair of cosmic hands clapped
and the lights flickered on. All across the sky,
ever so slowly. But the sky too,
was born, and all the world with it,
for what could be before the light;
it was shone upon the untouched emptiness,
and existence was made absolute.
Still, I think,
it was there before, as a tree
in a deep forest
as it heaves its last
and the hush of its breath is broken
by the tearing of roots.