Were I a god
I’d start
here
here, with nothing
a great compression of
nothing
till the built-up force of spaces between the nothing nothing nothing
exploding
expanding
extrapolating
cause slivered bits of, simply, everything.
Were I a god
I’d start
there
there, with slivers
a sparkling shower of
slivers
till, gathered, they form a winking blinking ball of thunk thought think
longing
learning
living
condensations of, really, sentience.
Were I a god
I’d start
everywhere
everywhere, with sentience
a malleable mess of
sentience
till the clumps of godmade intelligences breathe stretch move
dreaming
daring
dancing
flaming forms of, actually, life.
In answer to Frank Prem’s analysis (in the end the flame)