The Witching Hour of the Universe

Perhaps the very first atoms 

were breathed into existence -

not a bang -

But an exhale

As reflexive and natural as our own.

And we prescribe some unknowable noise to this

Kaleidoscopic beginning

But as I wonder up at the sun and her sister stars,

Patiently hovering in my late evening sky,

I imagine a quiet start.

Perhaps not silent,

But whispered

A hush

As if to sneak up on space and time itself

As a stubborn child might creep the stairs after bedtime

To risk the treasures of a late night world,

Beyond the boundaries that

They were determined to surpass.

Perhaps those first atoms 

Found themselves in the doorway of time

Looking out over all the possibilities

They had yet to fulfill,

And they too glanced over their shoulder

One last time

Before plunging into the rolling expanse

Of fire and light -

The one that absorbs us now.

What a beautiful breath, it must have been,

At the witching hour of the universe.

What quiet chaos must have erupted

Into this cosmic symphony; 

And our only hope of understanding that 

Initial moment

Is by listening to the notes

That have already been played - 

The notes born from a tremendous 

Quiet.