Something To Hold On To - A Poem
Channel: New Media Productions
Date: 2019-01-16

A Poem about Humanities Journey to find Something to Hold on To.


Something to Hold On To
 
In the beginning, its always dark.
Unimaginable nothingness permeates the endless dimensions.
Yet even in this darkness, infinite fields saturate the void. 
From the immensity, emerge the forces, time, space, matter.
The warmth crystallizes, leaving a fractal jewel in its wake.
And the cosmos gazes upon itself, in us.
 
Faintly lit clouds of dust and gas drift by, illuminated by the new stars at a distance.
Glimmers of light refract off grains of sand, and planets. 
But most remains obscured in the darkness.
Nothing is static, a consistent breeze flows in this direction and that.
 
For a moment not measured in time, comes a glimpse of eternity, profound. 
All around are subtle voices whispering in the night. 
Sometimes they echo together in chorus. 
And they sound like pure light and evoke ecstatic joy. 
They smell like the colors of the rainbow. 
 
Yet others feel like infinite pain.
The horrors of what they have woken up to. 
Surely exasperation alone has taken many.
Faint cries of terror reverberate through the vastness. 
A reminder that others have been here. 
That we not alone in eternity. 
 
An object from the distance suddenly appears and disappears into the night.
As if going somewhere.
A solid sphere harboring vast continents of life. 
The beings devour each other to gain a foothold. 
They grasp for something, anything to hold on to.
Some last longer than others. 
And some take what they can get. 
But few are truly successful.
 
In the distance a jewel spins like a god, just beyond reach. 
An infinitesimal divide may as well be infinity.
Every desperate attempt to grasp, only pushes it further away.
And they fall back asleep to dream of something to hold on to. 
 
A wandering ballerina dances on the solid ocean.
Sailing the cosmic seas.  
Approaching vessels adrift in the storm and offering harbor. 
Its refused while begged for. 
So relief comes indirectly, unexpectedly, so as not to seem too loud. 
Better to let them progress by choice. 
In the mean time, we can just sit here together on the edge as the eons pass by.
The night is particularly striking near the light in the center, where the jewels spin together.
 
One wonders if this will ever end. 
But how could it now that we're here? 
Relativity scales endlessly out of the vortex.
Reaching towards another transcendental singularity.
And here we are in the center, after all.
 
There is something to hold on to, yet nothing can be held.
So we face ourselves again and brave the cold. 
And after the night winds blow, in the morning we vow to try, once more. 

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