The Big Bang, Beginningless Time, And The Journey Of The Creative Universe

The Big Bang, Beginningless Time, And The Journey Of The Creative Universe prose poem

Photo by diana_robinson

” If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.”
—Carl Sagan

It’s all in there, waiting, just waiting in the time before time, the universe, our universe, packed unimaginably tight, indistinguishably tight, packed into a single point, a point infinitely smaller than a grain of sand, the rawest of raw materials awaiting the miraculous complexity of a single atom, all the solids, liquids, and gasses that will come from those atoms, the stuff of the stars, planets, and moons, indeed entire galaxies and clusters of galaxies, the cosmic winds, the lines that will become horizons and the edges of door frames, the planes that will become meadows and the surfaces of alpine lakes, and the volumes that will become oceans and mountains and bathtubs full of splish-splashy toddlers, the light that will erupt in the east each morning and flood through the kitchen window, the future debates over what to call Pluto, the weight of autumn and the promise of spring, Orion’s Belt and Cassiopeia, up and down, near and far, left and right, the carbon atom, the water molecule, semiconductors, bacteria and viruses, fish and flowering plants, the early nervous system, indeed conscious self-awareness itself—the awareness of being aware—packed in there, too, packed in there with memory and with language and with all those sparklers of emotions—love, grief, and anger rubbing shoulders with the asteroids and the dark matter, the possibilities of Jesus, Buddha, Mohammad, Lao Tzu cohabitating in dimensionless space, the cave paintings of Lascaux, the Pyramids of Giza, the sculptures of Bernini, the paintings of Kandinsky, the soulful jazz improvisations of Miles Davis, polio and the vaccine for polio, waterfalls spectrumming through the colors of the rainbow, moonlight on the mountains, sunlight on the sea, epiphanies in my heart and mind, and the unrepeatable configuration that is you, all this floating in that awesome sea of nothingness, packed, simply PACKED, waiting, just waiting like an unlit match on a shrine box, waiting like the bedrock in a fault zone, waiting like a landmine in a jungle, feeling in its own strange way the feeling of being so intensely small, hot, and dense, having absolutely no way of knowing what it will become and yet becoming everything, with no need to reconcile or repress anything, simply waiting for that improbable moment, that nudge, that flick of the wrist, the magic words uttered, and BOOM!

The universe as we know it began.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Austin Hill Shaw

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
Austin Hill Shaw is the founder of Creativity Matters. He works with individuals who want to unlock their full creative potential and organizations that want to build cultures of innovation. Through his keynotes and trainings, workshops, retreats, online courses, and one-on-one coaching, his life purpose is to empower others as creators. He is the author of The Shoreline of Wonder: On Being Creative, and inventor of The Creativity Quiz and the The Creator’s Cheat Sheet. He resides in Berkeley, California with his wife, Epiphany, and their daughters, Sierra Lucia and Lorenza Delmar. Find out more about his innovative offerings at
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

2 Comments on "The Big Bang, Beginningless Time, And The Journey Of The Creative Universe"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Rebecca Alick

Truly beautiful as if the entire world is wrapped in these words.



Time long poem

Where are you time? Infront of us Or behind us Walking with us. Or you make us walk. To him you brought it. They saw his body melt, Day by day bit by bit And then one day you had

End Of Time

End Of Time prose poem

I see a place with starless skies. I see a dark smooth world endlessly a float in the black, its star long since blinked out. Covered with small closely spaced geodesic domes. Geodesic domes all interconnected, all with conduits leading

Sands Of Time

Sands Of Time short poem

Here and now is the moment to become the tide and time in life over run in moments we are set as a sand in hand sifting in the wetness of a land crumbling sand As drifting minutes bear no

Quiet Time

Quiet Time short poem

I write beautiful poems in my quiet times, Sign that the universe delivers in silence – Great inspirations about love and crimes – With a poetic virtuoso ,I build my intelligence- Which I use to extract imaginative awareness- For the

The Time Has Come

The Time Has Come ode

It’s time to leave Far far away from here Go away please There’s no need to fear. Your time has now come Don’t fight anymore There’s nothing to escape from You just need to let go. You must understand, I