Epilogue

The World Began With A Whisper

by Emma (aka Koko)

Once upon a time ago

back thirteen point seven

billion years

so were told

the universe gave birth.

Out of gas and dust

and cosmic clouds

chaos created

Gaia divine

a Goddess

we call Earth.

Now before I get this going

let me start by telling you

that this is not a poem

about the saving of the planet.

For since the earth’s formation

there’ve been at least four mass extinctions

near complete annihilations

of all living populations.

Until her atmosphere was altered

through the flux of evolution

through single celled mutation

and organic procreation

in ecosystem synchronization

and symbiotic combination.

Like a phoenix

the garden of Eden

resurrects

in tune with her seasons

only recently becoming ripe

for varied forms of earthly life

and human habitation.

So simply put

the point of the poem

is that the earth was alive

before she was home.

The universe is hostile

and our dependence on the planet

infantile.

There’s only

twelve thin miles

between us and

bombardment by

galactic debris

harmful radiation

and the icy cold hands

of infinite

------------------------- space -----------------------------

This planet

our mother

encompasses you

our biosphere

our home, her womb.

(if it weren’t for photosynthesis

our brain could not consider this)

This poem…

(this is not a poem

it’s a thought

like matter

only less static)

Could it be

possibly that we

are one and the same thing

as earth as life as earth

and that we have been sleeping?

Like the Buddha

before his becoming

like Christ before

awakening

or like when we believed that the earth was

flat

like when we believed that the earth was flat

like when we believed

(of course, up until

that smarty pants Copernicus

shook it up in the 16th century

the idea of solar centric system

was considered crazy blasphemy)

I mean

perhaps we

have made a grave

underestimation

of the entire situation.

(with dozens of microscopic creatures

who now call home to you

can you say for sure that it was nothing

when Horton heard a who?)

But this poem/non-poem

does not propose that with

Gaia as our gracious host

we are planetary parasites

earth our hearth and domicile.

Instead

it stands

hands gesturing wildly

in street corner sermon

uncertain it will be believed

yet continues it’s oration

The living earth

is a single system

a biodiversified creation

each of us stems

from a single seed

connected despite

species transmutation.

(so rather than just freeloaders

perhaps we’re planetary creations)

James Lovelock told the world of this

through a paper he called the Gaia hypothesis.

Perhaps Blake, cummings, Krishna Murti

Hildegard, Joan of Arc, Rumi,

(among the many poets and mystics

who really seemed to get it)

knew of our relation

our situation

knew the source

of all divine

and their place

as a piece

of the planetary pie.

That is

if this

was a poem

to begin with

which it isn’t

it’s just a thought

nothing

but thought.

A versified voodoo creation

from the core of the central nervous system

of

the witch hunts are over

come home

of

perhaps we’re all just the same thing

of

synaptic communication

of

spiritual communion

of

if the universe is expanding

doesn’t that mean

that we were all one

when it began its beginning?

of

no, it can’t be, it makes me dizzy

of

how long can you hold out?

of

I’m a poet, not a planet

of

this is ridiculous, I’m going home

of

there is more to haven and earth, dear Horatio

of

but T.S. called us Hollow Men

of

not with a bang

of

this is a test

this is simply a test

all thinking taking place

is being simulated for test purposes

of

this is the way

this is the way

this

this

this is the way

of

life is but a dream

of

this is the way the world

begins

the world begins

the world begins

this is the way the world begins

not with a bang

but a

wide open mind

(and the whisper of the words)

meditate

deliberate

consider