The imagined 3-D Model of the #Big Bang.
MODEL OF THE UNIVERSE
Why do you hide under a veil?
When all you could be doing is soaring on your wings?
Why do you reach for stars,
When all you could know is you have it in you to shine?
Why age them in just peering through,
Those eyes, yours, shy like a virgin, which want to learn…
The veil, that poor see through thing,
Are you letting it, or is it really caging you, against your will?
Have they tied anklets around your feet,
In gold and silver that gleam but clang like cowbells?
Tell me of your childhood, your real one.
Did you have a ‘gudda’* then, you loved to fondle around all day?
You did, didn’t you? You loved him.
Then everything changed, when your childhood was taken from you.
You were just told, what was right and wrong,
You just winked once and your lovebirds took off into the blue.
Never you got to see them ever again,
Those mad birds, soaring high, higher than ever you’d flown your kite.
Those disobedient little creatures,
But why aren’t you happy, that they’ve left you…?
You must wonder where now they live,
Have they gone away far enough to live in some other world…?
Those two eyes, two tiny little birds,
Must be wandering among all beautiful things, which you won’t know…
Those obstinate, selfish birds, that live in dreams,
Ever wondered how they bless humanity every night? They hope for us.
Love has its own ways. It takes time to reach us. It has its own reasons. Each explicable. Its own pace, its own frequency. It’s the slowest electromagnetic wave that defies everything to reach us in its own time from the heart of the universe.
the universe broadens under the web of strain
the string, destiny draws through its dark heart
that maze, running through our very existence,
forever the enigma no human will ever understand–
in their mortal lifespans, is what the soul does.
it’s just as if the souls were but giant poppy plants,
they grow leaves they shed upon autumn
the bodies that rot and grow in the cycle of eternity.
foolish men. stop asking the world your questions
your rusty skin will wither and crumble one day.
ask your self, your soul and listen, you’ve been alive,
all this time.