The Big Bang
It is that very implosion of questionably preexisting atoms,
that dependence of islands of solidity around what is surely fire,
the primeval lives expanding rapidly on the horizon, every direction,
that makes me question the cosmological impact of randomness and fate.
It is that destructive energy of something starting that has no boundaries.
That less-than-a-second vibration that after which, nothing can be the same.
Gravity, pulling unmistakably on that which it has not been called on to draw,
Evidence in stars and thought-forms, hypotheses that may not come to be proven.
the touch of which certainly as mysterious and dangerous as dark matter,
that points to a question on kismet; its very answer, its soundless explosion,
leaving me in awe, philosophizing, looking deep into the night, terrified.