Once God was a child,
all hydrogen, helium, and heat,
no gravel, no granite,
no soil for the breathing.
His early warmth fills this room still,
three degrees from absolute zero,
in the gray snow falling in
the broken television screen,
in the static hissing on the radio
Young God is all things random,
and all things are random.
Young God dies the great heat death,
all filament freezing; igneous!
And as we go about our own adult days,
we too are dying the slow way,
letting our thoughts turn to
WOULD YOU LIKE A FAMOUS ARTS
3 years ago