Before THIS Big Bang
poem
They lit a Quarky, quantum cigar — The latest big bang happened. They drew a galactic puff — the newest universe ignited and brightened up. They exhaled, and the gaseous particle-parliament defused, vanishing into the immaterial, gravitational void. They smoked on until the elementary cigar got burnt out and infinitesimally spent, spreading uncompileably out into the oblivious dark space. Then they lit another one; and another; and again; ad infinitum. But Who are these chain smokers? And What indefatigable factory bangs out such inextinguishable Strings of cigars?
Earth, 12.07.22
