I was born
when the universe was dark.
I was shaped
when the Earth was cold.
I was born
by the mother of the void
and the father of singularity.
Birthed in silence
before the light
was spoked in to existence;
I witnessed the first dividing line.
I am the last of the everything.
The last thing created whole,
before time and light
and straight confining ideas
turned one element against another.
The place that bore me
no longer exists;
shattered like crystal,
its shards spinning out into the universe,
never to be made whole.
Wanderer of the Celestial Highway,
moving between time and reality;
I sometimes encounter shadows
that sound like echoes
of my home.
Here, a piece of darkness,
there, a space of silence
and here,
upon this little blue rock
in a backwater galaxy,
I find a myth.
A piece of the creation legend
none could have believed true.
Hope.
The potential for reunification.
Somehow,
mingled with the insane
and insignificant struggles
of its inhabitants,
I have found a thing
thought lost eons ago.
I will abide here,
for maybe a few thousand years,
by their sun
and see what these beings make
of such a thing.
What will these “Humans” do
with their place in divinity?
HG – 2016
