This word shouldn’t have a singular number.
The route of the Cosmos isn’t a straight line.
Continuous flow of now-s and now-s.
Cosmogonies take place all the time.
Humans were always so devoted
to finding the time-spot when everything began.
Even those who do it unconsciously,
Even those who don’t believe they can.
What’s so interesting in knowing
when and how did it all start?
There is a much more important thing
What am I, what’s my role in that?
But maybe that’s also problematic;
the wording of some questions.
Am I really in the world?
Or is the world inside me, enveloped?
Is it really a meaning larger than me?
Or am I the context in which it breathes?
Was it existent before our arrival?
Or formed along with our consciences?
Time is always a confusing factor;
painful to my unaware species.
It’s a heavy rock tied to our foot.
A killing hunter of our peace is.
That spiral doesn’t have edges;
no start, no ending, just one bond.
The past and the future are here now.
Cosmogonies happen every second.
So, this way the word may have
a singular number, after all.
We, as consciences that create worlds
are all the time one conscience as a whole.
Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives
(Photo by Gertrūda Valasevičiūtė on Unsplash)
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