The beginning of the world was a whispered verse

The beginning of the world was a whispered verse, In a cosmic silence where stars barely dared to flicker, All that exists in the world was created by poetry: Gods and myths, legends and religions, Morality and politics, ideologies and history, Psychology and literature, art and culture, science and the infinite. In a primordial morning, the word was born from chaos, A song of creation, a symphony of existence, And from that verse, the universe began to unfold, Like a canvas upon which the dreams of gods are painted. Gods, sculpted from stanzas, descended from the heavens, With thunder and lightning, they shaped the earth, Legends took form in the murmurs of leaves, And religions were woven from prayers and hopes. Morality bloomed in the heart of humanity, A poetry of justice, of good and evil, Politics, a theater of ambitions and dreams, Ideologies, verses of change and revolution. History, a ballad of time, where heroes are born and die, Psychology, a sonnet of the mind, of hidden thoughts, Literature, an ocean of metaphors, where souls are lost and found, Art, a dance of colors and shapes, the echo of an unwritten poem. Culture, an ode to the collective spirit, Science, an epic of knowledge, of curiosity, And thus, everything returns to poetry, For in the beginning was poetry, and in the end, it shall remain. We wander through life, carrying within us this melancholic magic, Each thought, each dream, a verse in the universal symphony, And in the silence between heartbeats, we listen, To the echo of the primordial poetry, reminding us, That we are part of an eternal song, an endless dream.