Our Tireless Universe

The universe endures
like a great engine of light,
its pulse older than gravity’s first whisper,
its breath warm with the ash of ancient stars.

Galaxies spiral upward,
vast helixes of memory and fire
gathering dust from forgotten worlds
and stitching it into new beginnings.

Nebulae open like slow-burning flowers,
petals of radiance unfolding
into the patient dark.

Asteroids wander the night
like iron seeds flung from a giant’s hand,
seeking a cradle of orbit,
a place to root their future stone.

And in the collapsed chambers of dead suns
lie hidden the bright ores of becoming,
elements learning again how to ignite.

Here, in the slipstream of all this grandeur,
we drift as brief sparks,
our glow trembling against the vast
yet eager to matter,
eager to rise into whatever we might become.

The universe has never tired.
Its strength is in its constancy,
its endless will to transform,
to gather what falls,
to lift it again as something new.

But…

As our digital world accelerates,
at risk is our clarity faltering.
Thought grows thin beneath the static,
reason sifts through noise
like a miner searching the dark
for a lamp he misplaced.

If we forget the patience
that shaped the stars,
we may find our next becoming slowed,
held back by waters rising without pause.

For oceans…

Remember everything they swallow.
Their floors may one day hold
the remnants of what we were,
buried in silt,
waterlogged histories
too heavy to rise as dust again
into the tireless universe that still waits
for our choosing.