Atoms flung from dying stars onto the burning rock,
Hydrogen and oxygen congealing and combining,
Eons like drops of rain hang by the millions of pounds serenely floating,
Unimaginable eternity briefly hanging colossal and godlike,
Over the heads of the naked ants scurrying to move sand piles,
And scoffing at miracles.
About the Creator
Alex Fontaine
I hit things with hammers and make bad choices.
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Comments (1)
I don't scoff at miracles! and I LOVE looking at clouds and photographing them; watching them build and stretch. I truly enjoyed your poem!