Mystery of the Universe

In the beginning, there was silence —

Not the quiet of peace, but the absence of everything.

No stars, no time, no thought,

Just the trembling possibility of being.

Then came the spark.

A breathless birth — the Big Bang —

From a single, searing point of nothing,

Exploding into everything.

Time began to tick.

Matter danced with energy,

Galaxies bloomed like cosmic flowers,

Spinning in the cradle of chaos.

But the universe did not answer

The questions it inspired.

Why does anything exist at all?

Why is the fabric of space

Woven so finely that life may rise

On a pale blue dot in a forgotten corner?

Dark matter whispers between galaxies,

Invisible scaffolding holding the stars.

Dark energy pulls at the seams,

Unraveling fate with every passing moment.

And yet, we are here —

Conscious specks of stardust,

Dreaming, wondering, loving,

Trying to decode the symphony we are part of.

Is there a purpose, a design?

Or just entropy in masquerade?

Are we a simulation in some alien child's computer?

A divine thought echoed in infinity?

Or a beautiful accident

In a multiverse of infinite tries?

We reach for meaning in the stars,

In equations, in myths,

In the faces of those we love.

The mystery remains.

It breathes in black holes and butterfly wings,

In ancient photons and the curve of a smile.

Perhaps the universe is not meant to be solved,

But felt.

Not answered, but lived.

Not feared, but loved.

So let us wonder,

For in our questions lives the echo of creation —

And in our hearts, the cosmos continues to unfold.riting...