Nocturne of Genesis
A Man walking in the Dark night (in the old times) Thinking how this Vast world is created.
A lone man walks where shadows bleed to black, The moon a sliver, caught on branches high. He feels the earth beneath his weary track, And whispers rise from questions in the sky.
How did it start, this tapestry of stars, This silent dance of dust and burning light? Did chaos bloom beyond the cosmic bars, A sudden birth in endless, empty night?
He pictures swirling nebulae unfurled, A painter's palette, splashed across the void, Where gravity, a patient hand, has curled The spinning chaos into worlds enjoyed.
Or
dreamed, perhaps. Did some vast, sleeping mind Imagine mountains, rivers, and the sea? Did consciousness, of its own nature kind, Awake and breathe the world that is to be?
He feels the wind, a whisper on his face, A secret murmur from the universe. Perhaps creation happens in this place, This quiet solitude, this silent verse.
Each step he takes, a tremor in the dark, A ripple outward, touching distant shores. He is a part, a tiny, fragile spark, Reflecting light the universe outpours.
And as the dawn begins to paint the east, He knows the question lingers, undefined. The world unfolds, a beautiful, wild beast, Forever born within the human mind.
About the Creator
Xavier
Global news reporter covering science, tech, environment, Entertainment & sports. Delivering balanced insights to inform and inspire readers worldwide. Sometimes a poet.
Comments (1)
The rhythm of the piece itself mirrored the pulse of the universe—calm yet vast and powerful. It feels like a journey through time and space, almost as if we are witnessing the birth of something eternal. I especially appreciated the way you made the reader reflect on the delicate balance between creation and destruction.