Explosion

 

(Picture Credit - Cone Nebula by Space dot com)

Our so-called “Universe” is an erupting volcano

Spewing out gas and solid matter

To form a cosmic web

Of incandescent galaxies full of stars

Rushing away from us

Ever faster

Until we see them no more.

 

We tiny mice men gaze up at the sky

To make out next to nothing

Of the wider landscape

On which our universe-volcano

Sends out its plumes.

 

Us mice we sit, idly supping our pints of ale:

Taking a break from “shopping”

For the better half.

Blithely taking for granted

The wonder that lies above our heads.

 

A cosmos riddled with black holes –

Places where Time has stopped.

Where if you somehow survived

You would be frozen solid

With no knowledge that Time keeps moving

Out there beyond the Event Horizon.

 

If Time has stopped

How can anything exist?

How can Hawking Radiation seep out

When there simply isn’t time?

 

Even Brian Cox doesn’t know,

As he sits and sups his pint.

None of us know.

And as my glass empties,

Just as the universe will eventually empty,

All I can say is

Let’s have another one.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 7\12\2021.

Perhaps

 

 (Picture Credit - PS Mag com - "God Letting Go")

 

Perhaps someone thought of an Existence:

A Cosmos so arranged

That its skies would be adorned with stars

Full of worlds

Where sentient life was

Inevitable.

 

Just an inkling of a thought,

A singularity

That dreamed of a singularity

From which Everything emerged.

All imaginable good and evil,

Making Pandora’s Box look trivial.

Evolving intelligence

From primordial slime.

Wonders everywhere that we

Will never see.

 

All from just a thought.

But better think on this:

We are that thought.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 20\8\2021.

Common World

 

(Picture Credit - Proxima Centauri World from Astronomy Mag)

This little world is like most worlds

Throughout the Cosmos.

Here the sun never moves

From its place in the sky:

Seemingly endless morning or eve,

Take your choice.

 

No concept of time.

No seasons.

Nothing to show the passing of the years.

Just that sun.

Moons optional.

 

The plants are black

Under a dark red sky

All sombre

All still

Apart from the odd cold wind

From this planet’s “Dark Side”.

 

For, like most planets,

This world resides in the Goldilocks Zone

Of a Red Dwarf Star

A zone where water may flow

Under the glow of a star

Like the vast majority of stars

Throughout the universe.

 

This world’s residents might well look out

Into space

With envy at our golden sun

With its blue Earth

Adorned with a coat of green

And its seasons

And days and nights.

 

They may learn from us about time

About our freedom to roam a long way

Without meeting tropical desert

And eternal frost on the dark side.

 

They may gasp in wonder

At this Paradise of ours

As they ponder their black grass

And hide from solar flares.

No respite from that relentless red sun,

No sense of time

Apart from monotony.

 

And they might wonder at us,

As we fail to care

For our glorious world

As it basks in our golden sun.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 28\7\2001.

The Miracle

 

(Picture Credit - "God Letting Go" by PS Mag com)

 

The miracle –

To see, to feel, to touch, to hear, to smell

To be

To know I’m me.

 

A miracle repeated centillions of times over:

From the tiniest bug to the tallest tree.

So many sentient beings

Brimming with thoughts and feelings

Powerful emotion

And boundless imagination.

 

Evolution is but a continuation

From some timeless beginning

That could have created time itself.

 

Particles still wink in and out of existence –

Endless miracles beyond our vision.

All animals are just like us,

Seeing, feeling, thinking, wondering.

 

We take all this for granted

Rushing about

With our petty concerns –

Seldom taking the time

To stop

And look

At the sheer wonder

That is

Now.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 11\7\2021.