A Universal Question

Tags

Agnosticism, Atheism, Australian poet, Creation of the Universe, God, poem, poetry, Science and the universe, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐀 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

We sit upon a whirling tilted sphere,
That hurtles through a vacuum at high speed.
And if you don’t think this is rather queer,
You are my friend, a strange fellow indeed.
The Sun (an atom bomb) it is agreed,
We circle once a year. A satellite,
The moon we call it — like a silver bead,
It shines upon us on a moonlit night.
The stars above on starry nights give light,
And shooting stars sometimes at night they fall,
And though they are to us a splendid sight,
They’re meteors — not really stars at all.
Who set in motion this great cosmic dance?
Or could it all have happened just by chance?

— D.N. O’Brien

Let There be Light!

Tags

Australian poet, Big Bang Theory, Creation of the Universe, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Singularity, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Let There be Light!

The singularity is now complete.
Contained — the building blocks of gas and rock.
The Master Builder rises from His seat
And sets to midnight its celestial clock.
But time’s timepiece will neither tick nor tock
Until the detonation — till the blast.
The Builder nods — the shackles, they unlock;
The force that held the seething mass is cast
Aside — no longer is the bomb held fast,
As now the point of no return is reached.
And so the future will be as the past,
As boundaries are broken, blasted, breached.
Exploding outward does the matter race,
Constructing rock and gas and time and space.

— D.N. O’Brien

A Universal Problem

Tags

A Singularity, Atheism, Australian poet, Big Bang Theory, Creation of the Universe, Formal poetry, God and Science, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

A Universal Problem

The atheist, he counters faith with fact.
He says that all religions are a lie.
He claims the scientists have all but cracked
The complex code — the age old question: Why?
Why are we here? And where, when humans die,
Do their poor souls reside? There is no place,
No hell below, no heaven up on high
He claims. The awful truth we all must face:
No god bestows on any man his grace;
No soul remains and flesh goes back to ground —
The dust that coats a rock that spins in space.
But is belief based on but science sound?
“The Universe” — a grand scientific name;
But who designed the point from which it came?

— D.N. O’Brien

Bang!

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Big Bang Theory, Creation of the Universe, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Singularity, sonnet, Universe

It starts – the birth of matter, time and space,
As silently, expanding gases roar.
Towards a far infinity they race.
From just a speck, a tiny point, they pour
White hot – the cosmic building blocks, the raw
Materials that swirl and then condense
To blazing suns and planets. And from core
To crust, each body, tiny or immense,
Each boiling ball of rock or gas so dense –
All came, each one, from just a single place;
From there they came, or nowhere, in a sense;
Yet now these wonders would the Heavens grace.
The Universe was made in such a way,
And too, its laws – and these it must obey.