August 4, 2007
The Wheel
The Wheel
By Cameron Macdonald
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Imagine this:
A place so large it won’t
Fit the universe.
A place so dark it won’t
Stop shining.
A place so quiet it won’t
Still the air.
A place so lifeless it won’t
Stop breeding.
‘
A great circle with no end,
A beginning without a start.
A conclusion without standstill,
A perpetual random art.
Infinity in everlasting motion.
A casual spin, then ordeal.
A result! Survival for the best,
Oblivion for the reel.
‘
From this multiverse where time Is void,
and all events come at once,
Infinite universes are spawned,
And countless a verse lost.
So came a cosmos so profound,
That no fathom could be plumbed.
Intelligent design had to create,
With laws so precisely fashioned.
‘
Sharp purpose there may have been,
To have created laws infinity.
From that perplexing countless spin,
Many a universe began of the turn.
With that helm set in place,
Those that failed were lost to time.
And those that did survive the spinning trial,
Outlived the others like spruce and pine.
‘
So we the bugs on the needles of pine,
Like the white orb, thank the croupier.
For with that spin we are greater than nought,
On one tree that is of the forest’s line.
And if a creator there has to be!
Pity pray me this end:
Is the arborist our maker,
If all it did was create the trend?