A poem about harmonious chaos
In the wake of the Universe, As it took its first breath, Expanding into cosmic soliloquies, Stretching space and time, In all four cardinal directions.
Born a director, Silver baton in hand, Waving melodies in the air, Watching creation unfold, Becoming the stage, Then becoming the song.
Brushing the canvas with slivers of silence. You are void yet bursting with life. King of possibilities, Empress of darkness and light.
You grind old bones to dust, Only to sow new seeds at dawn.