Advent, day six…
Before everything, was there nothing?
Before we were conceived, before seed, before egg, before cells divided- nothing?
Or was a space waiting, like an empty womb?
Those of us with faith, and those of us without- we live in the same darkness.
We all wait for light.
In the corner of my gaze something moved
Reminded of almost imperceptible stars
In sky almost black like bruises
Punched through with points of light
Did I form you like an idol from some ancient river bed?
Did I raise you up on a pole?
Are you just déjà vu
For the deluded last few
Will science yet prove us all fools?
But the night whispers
Mist of breath on puckered skin
Like the scent of sea to a sailor
It speaks of a yearning
For all those words unpoemed
Paintings not yet painted
Songs not yet sung
Reeds still to be fluted
Strings still to be strung.
The unpregnant womb
Is still waiting.