A God all alone in empty total dark,
had thought to start up creations spark.
To build upon that black empty view,
all those things his thoughts made anew.
Where and with what should he begin,
with only darkness there to keep it in?
Mechanics drawn from rigid Physics laws,
so time would carry out evolutions chores.
Only God alone right there at the start,
hydrogen made as if from some godly ****.
Clouds that swirled and time then congealed,
until mass and gravity his plan then revealed.
Ignition of that first ball of gaseous light,
that brought an ending to the longest night.
Deep in that furnace new things were made,
a realm where matter and time both played.
Changing substance and the shape and form,
by the passing of time and by cosmic storm.
All elements to make every building block,
of galaxies, liquids, gases and every kind of rock.
So the plan moves on at his chosen godly pace,
filling all of time and all corners of outer-space.
Ever changing all things into something more,
God all alone knowing what its all been for.
Accident or creation?.... or both?
They tell of a land to the North
with misted valley's and of glen
Where red deer wild roam
as they make splash upon the fen.
Strong and hardy is the stock,
many with deep red hair,
Raised from their day of birth,
on naught but deep fried fare.
Custom demands of each a thrift,
and preservation of everything,
this all born out on coinage in pocket,
bearing the head of the last king.
They are true a hardy race,
of this many can contend,
and rumours abound all over,
of them tossing trees end on end.
So too there are tales of a legend,
that gives some despair to the soul.
that they smack a ball all over hillsides
until it falls into a wee hole.
Cultural music is a strong tradition.
and dance often accompanies that,
with much joy and merry festivity
to sound of someone neutering a cat.
An ancient tongue they sometimes speak
that gives cause to a certain lilt.
But ire them not for revenge is sweet
as they turn backs and raise their kilt.
Perhaps to make a smile or two....
Forged by one's own hand so sharp a blade.
Cast by the universes strongest powers.
A forge so intense in heat and fire.
Bonds as strong as any smithed steel.
No artery immune to it's strikes and piercings.
Vulnerability at it's every mortal ******.
Yet still we choose to love.
To risk to live.... to love.
Why from singularity to universe
across fourteen billion years?
Then give me just but these sixty
in the company of countless tears?
Why is it I am here to witness,
the wonder of universal things?
Only to know I will never know,
what cosmic evolution finally brings?
Why am I born to a species,
that seeks to know all it can?
But then given such small a window,
I can never hope to see all it's plan?
Why evolve a sentient intelligence,
that looks far beyond Earth's ground?
To give each only such a short lifespan,
where all the answers can't be found?
Why congeal my eternal dust this way,
and then evolve me to conscious thought?
Where universe and evolution continues on,
my consciousness given time oh so short?
Why since the creation of all things,
has evolution had need of so many years?
Without simple insights and more answers,
to give rise of hope for a life of fewer tears?
Why the bindings of science and physics,
that dictate all that comes and goes?
Where time and space and matter,
are given restriction and order to their flows?
Why give me the power to think and question,
in this section of space and time oh so small?
Where rational thought must finally conclude,
humankind has no significance in the plan at all.
I hate unanswered questions.
Another day of cloud and shadow,
has come to take up the stage.
Another sense of empty loneliness,
that so often fills my published page.
That feeling that there is no point,
no rhyme or reason to what I do.
Another day devoid of sunshine,
where dark shadow taints the view.
An ever present feeling of endings,
that assuredly a soul attests are near.
Desolation's discomfort behind my eyes,
seemingly compelled to fill with tear.
Mind now drawn from dreamless sleep,
to wakeful hours as empty as those dreams.
An empty world of loneliness and silence,
where thoughts become nightmare's screams.
Slow moving hands that count away the time,
days filled with shadow immune to every light.
Empty total vacuum unaffected by the hour,
despair, minds refuge in black deep as the night.
Somewhere in this world where darkness reigns,
all dream and hope took turn and lost its way.
So I close again my eyes to drift in dreamless sleep.
to hope that hope returns again some day.
I long for days when the shadows are of natures making.
It is difficult to convey the difference of shadows of the mind to those who walk in lighter spaces. Light has become a distant memory.
I lie upon the soft field grasses,
and look up upon the blue.
To ease the mind to rest,
and let my eyes take in the view.
Vapour shaped by wind,
that drifts high upon the restful scene.
To float upon the pastel,
leaving no trace where it has been.
Shapes of white and grey,
like soft pillows in the air.
That by some subtle contortion,
transform, 'til naught is there.
Others drift across the daylight,
as if on some predestined course.
propelled across the sky,
by a breath of nature's unseen force.
I wonder where they go,
what bidding do they do.
As they glide along their way,
until far beyond my capsuled view.
Sun's warmth in temporary instalments,
as shadows come and go.
The shade and shadow's fall,
slightly cool all that is far below.
Through my eyes now closed,
of soft patterns I remain complete aware.
As warmth and slight chill mark the clouds,
that march upon the springtime air.
Through the journey of life,
I followed where my nose has led.
A majority of my story,
on pages now turned and read.
There is a change in me,
a need to seek some other guide.
For my nose at times has led,
to so many places where I cried.
So short the time remaining in my book,
I want to follow my own heart.
To smile and laugh again,
and let love and passion play its part.
Somewhere out there,
there must be a lover that feels the same.
Yet I don't know where you are,
and I don't even know your name.
I hold a passion and a love for you,
so vast it would cover all the sea.
My heart cries out for some reply,
who and wherever you may be.
I am both a repository of unused love,
and so very much all alone
So whomever you may be,
find me soon, life is pointless on my own.
So many lonely people? How can it be that so many are searching for love but they just cant seem to see and find one another?