Day 19 – Nature of Our Cosmos


Nature of Our Cosmos


Each day

I pass

the Russian woman.

She never acknowledges me,

except for a rare annoyed scowl,

annoyed at my interruption of her

spirited debate with

nobody, her glare

fixated on a

specific corner

of nothing.


In the beginning,

there was nothing;

no God, no Devil,

no good, no evil,

no free love, no mass-murder,

no sailing ships, no rocket ships, no spy satellites,

no chocolate, no truth, no lies, no bigotry,

no chicken soup, no science, no poetry,

no gas giants, not even a single molecule.


Each day I pass the Russian woman

talking to trace molecules of barely nothing.

Some days her tone is soft, conciliatory,

other days, defiant, demanding.

I can’t see who she’s speaking to, but

part of me hopes she wins the argument.



makes the airtight

argument that Cosmos

was birthed from a bang long ago,

but shrugs when asked what came before

the cosmos, why She came

to be, what’s Her


where’s the

verse preceding

Her, what entity or

mechanism banged Her into



The Cosmos exists.

She has amnesia.


The Cosmos birthed herself with a big bang,

all the energy that ever was

or ever will be

was dispersed,

filling the void with Her molecules,

seeding Her realm with energy, matter,

and later,

something called life; Her messengers

and investigators scattered

to every corner of the firmament.


Finite in nature,

the end of life

is not the end.


Matter that was life returns to Her,

having never left Her;

the energy fueling life’s soul

returns to Her collective,

helping Her piece

the puzzle together.


The Cosmos exists.

She is learning about herself.


Select few lifeforms are born with

more pieces of the puzzle than average.

They are typically persecuted,


just before they can share this knowledge

with the willfully sightless.


Some become enlightened all at once,

stepping across the ethereal plain,

gasping in wonder

taking their secrets

directly back to Her.


Others become enlightened,

but stubbornly refuse to cross over,

instead opting to address Her directly,

ignoring those without vision,

knowing we lack the knowing,

the dimension of perception required

to convene with Her.


The Cosmos exists.

She is a Russian woman

holding communion with Her nature.

** *

Written for NaPoWriMo’s day 19 optional prompt: write a poem that recounts a creation myth. This is my creation myth.