We are the universe awakening to
itself, not apart, made of its substance,
but looking out, looking in, opening,
seeing meaning in meaninglessness,
and finding loneliness in the looking.

The sky and the stars, the glaring sun and
and the nightly moon in passage, were our
first curiosity on the plains and then we
made exotic gods to explain the mystery
in the looking, sense in the senseless.

But gods were ever our own creative making
in the wondering, the explanation, the awe,
the looking in the dark mirror and catching
our own gaze in the act of watching and seeing
the horror of ourselves as devils and angels.

Consciousness is a gift of seeing and being alive,
and it is a wound the cosmos inflicted on itself,
caught in the closeness of being of substance one,
and in the distance of perception that observes
itself and its mortal frailty in the universal order.

 

26/7/2026