I wonder what my constituent atoms
were doing fifty thousand years ago?
They spanned highest heights and deepest fathoms,

they brooded within caves and softly flowed
in springs that tip toed through the stricken rock.
They waited for the last sun to explode,

a fiend within a cloud straight out of Blake,
when all that we were then were formess motes
that glowed within the universe’s black,

and even now, the finger tips that write
materialistic missives on touch screens
once swirled within the settling Guinness pint,

and grazed by motorways on bristling greens.
Add to that all of the old ideas
we sometimes mistake for our very own,

the genes shuffled by rhibosome dealers
and what room’s left for what you call the soul?
Barely enough to set the scales aquiver,

a piddly, ectoplasmic thimbleful.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Jan 11, 2012 @ 00:47:38

    I vaguely remember from school…The quantity of mater in the universe is constant, it merely changes its form. I thought the idea cool then and it is still cool now.


  2. peter litton
    Jan 11, 2012 @ 00:50:09

    matter…that’s what I meant to type.


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