First, there was nothing,
A ball of energy thrust into a shell,
Creation of the proverbial “I.”
A being made commonplace. A being made.
His energy, now knowledge presumed,
Cascades him through a rugged landscape.
Man, he calls himself,
Not knowing the extent of the brand,
Or the struggles of its definition.
Developing eyes, he wanders,
Trusting in the power of his arm
To comfort the weakness of his stomach.
Like a convalescing soldier
He gains prowess and cunning,
His energy now learning.
Man fights the cold, the hurt,
Tries to define the unknown, and then
Weighs existentialism and a thing called God
His movements now calculated,
Demonstrated to the most high,
With paradoxical reasoning, created.
Not understanding the stars,
His God changes and stays the same,
Displaying implausible deniability or the devil.
And no-one cares.