When my daughter was about five years old, she turned to me and asked, “Why is there a world.” I didn’t want to insult her intelligence with some flippant response, so I told her I would to think about it.
So I did think about it, and then I wrote a couple of poems.
Why There’s a World: Part I
Once upon a time there was a time before the time
And in that time no space no place for reason or for rhyme
No stars, no moons, no ice cream cones, not even empty air
Nothing, no way and no how, and nothing anywhere
Then fourteen billion years ago a bubble went kaboom
Our universe appeared just like a baby from a womb
A scattering of heat and gas across an open sky
Created out of nothing, spreading out as time goes by
Quickly stars were born and for the first time there was light
Burning hot they brought the day to end that long, long night
And then eight planets came to form around a certain star
And one of them began to churn like cabbage in a jar
Frothing and fermenting, spawning microscopic life
Rising from the foamy mist of oceanic strife
Our earliest ancestors learned to crawl up on the land
They shed their scales and buffed their nails and metamorphosed and
Soon they started scaling trees, subsisting on their fruit
Snacking on bananas, yes, but never on a newt
Recognizing dangers, most especially the snake
These clever apes discovered simple tools that they could make
Another million years and they climbed down to take a stroll
In search of newer ways in which to make their lives more full
The discovery of fire, it made everything more fun
Providing heat and light and rather like a little sun
Cooking food meant eating better, growing larger brains
For domesticating livestock and cultivating grains
Along came books and science and cantatas penned by Bach
Oh what an epic journey, on our spinning little rock
Why There’s a World: Part II
When on high in the hall of almighty creation
A clockmaker works with precise calibration
Adjusting the springs and perfecting his pulleys
A cosmos conceived without mishaps or follies
The gears are wound tight for a bang of release
The original case of disturbing the peace
A universe born with no boundary or border
His laws are enacted with consummate order
As every last detail earns careful attention
Designed with a purpose, by way of intention
Not one thing at random, through chaos or chance
Everything planned like a synchronized dance
The Creator, Scorekeeper, and Giver of Light
Gave us skills to discern what is good and what’s right
Morality jells, with cognition unfolding
And righteous commandments we’re charged with upholding
Now every injustice is wrought with a reason
But sorrow and joy will appear in due season
Maybe not what you want, or what you deserve
But you’ll get what you need, and you’ll surely observe
That wrongdoers sometimes are blessed and rewarded
With more than the high-minded man is afforded
It’s wisdom obscure from the Bringer of Days
His cryptic, mysterious, inscrutable ways
Just don’t get discouraged, should you suffer on earth
For the gold in your heart is your ultimate worth
A few years later, I wanted to write another version of the story. So I came up with this retelling of creation.
A Myth of Creation
Engulfed in the dark and unspeakable silence
Sundered at once by an echo of violence
What IS has emerged from the sea of what’s NOT
And heavenly bodies appear like a thought
Original Mind with no definite face
Forms an idea resulting in space
An eruption of heat and primordial gasses
Producing the stars of all sizes and classes
A triplet of titans appear from her womb
Big brother the Sun and his sister the Moon
Followed by Earth the most precious of all
A drop of perfection but destined to fall
Above the abyss of a black empty void
Where matter can never be made or destroyed
The forces of Ares turn land into fire
While torments of Neptune raise sea levels higher
And fashioned together from star-stuff and mud
A new race is destined to weather the flood
To learn and be tested and suffer through trials
And wander the wilderness aimless for miles
Now open your ears and you’ll hear when they call us
Sophia she whispers with wisdom and solace
But treacherous voices will speak up as well
Attempting to shuffle our souls off to Hell
So charting the course between shoulds and should nots
While listening, looking, connecting the dots
With every last twinkle of light in the sky
Reflecting in every last sparkling eye
Further Reading
If you enjoyed this poetry about cosmology, you’ll want to take a look at these other collections:
