Following the big bang,
All sorts of things,
Curious and consequential
Took wing.
Things logical and incremental.
Dust congested into stars
Which congregated
Into coteries of solar systems,
With planets like Mars,
Like Jupiter and Venus,
But frankly,
Between us,
These variations out of dust
Must be much more diverse
In this universe.
Things yet to be observed
In space that is determined to be curved.
Eventually, when all this stuff
Ceases to be so rough,
When the daily grind
Processes this dust
To a form more refined
According to the mechanics
Of the second law
Of thermodynamics,
Whoever set off
The original firecracker,
The Original Bushwhacker,
Will sigh and cough And neatly fold
The whole shebang
Back upon itself,
Deposit it into His closet
Upon a shelf. poetry |