Precipice

Standing on the precipice of fear and awe,
We are creatures in wonder and uncertainty.
We make all our heavens and hells.
This edge of possibility, where we search
uncharted interstellar dimensions,
the wormholes and blackholes 
beyond our comprehension.

Intelligent maker of such things,
If it is evident anywhere,
then, we are surely too small to know.
Does it drift through space like 
an unmoored ghostship or
is it the confluence of 
universal consciousness,
the essence of intention?

Is this universe alone, or 
just a branch of many on a tree?
Are we here by blueprint or 
merely coincidental?
Are we a rough draft, or
Are we an objective?

It is hidden in the rain,
hidden in the particles of pebbles.
Standing on the precipice of fear and awe,
We are actualities in stupefaction on ambiguities.
We fill our voids with heavens and hells.
Yes, we are tireless seekers 
poised on the precipice of the unknowable.

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Brian Sambourne

Date: 3/14/2024 8:46:00 PM

Greetings Thomas, Your poem raises so many existential questions which invite reflection and thought with an evolutionary slant. I wonder, too, if we're the finished product of good and evil. My hope is for an evolutionary improvement. Thank you for prodding us with relevant questions. Brian

Thomas Wells
Date: 3/23/2024 2:40:00 PM

Hello, Brian. Thank you for praising this poem. It is good to know that you grapple with many of the same questions. Even if one is a person of faith, I think it is still possible to enter into this search for meaning, and I am convinced that many religious people do this. Be well always, my friend!