Word

​

Eternity
gives a deity plenty of time
to float about, contemplating
why stars shine cold from afar
and burn when you touch them;
why comets don't collide;
why centres cannot hold.

​

When gas and rock hold no more secrets,
give a little spark to a proton gradient
on a rock you prepared earlier,
with hydrothermal vents 
and nutrients. Watch your experiment
fuse and form until it finds a shape
into which you may pour 
your own image.

​

Build a garden. Take a mating pair, 
fully grown, fertile. Remove from them
all recollection of fellows, tell them 
they are the first. Tell the small one 
she owes her existence first to you, 
then to the other. Give them free will. 
Set them loose. Observe.

​

You know,
from eternity,
that the universe 
despises imbalance.

​

Your hypotheses are upheld:
1. That the breeding impulse is stronger than rational thought
and
2. The oppressed will innovate to overthrow those who dominate

​

The universe may despise imbalance,
but an eternal deity, jaded 
by the infinite passage of stars, 
needs a bit of fun now and then.

​

Find susceptible minds. Whisper
instructions to them: different for each,
each with the weight of your word,
which shall be called Truth. 
Have it written down.
Withdraw.

​

Observe.