PRESENT AT THE CREATION

What was it
Said, at the beginning,
"Let there be!"
And there was?

I doubt a hairy geriatric
With a forefinger poking
Into chaos.
But I get no satisfaction
Out of Science
Cataloging energies and particles
So that the universe,
From prime power,
Opened like a flower.
It is, of course, nice to be aware
Of forms succeeding forms
So that the progress into currency
Clicks into sense.

 

But all that’s offered
When I press for motivation
Is a shrug.
Nothing in the sky
can answer
"Why?’

 

© Jan Sand
Charlotte's Web ± ±± Poem 31 ± ± ± Jans Menu


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