Acts of Creation

At first,
There was nothing.
And then came,
Light.
Not unlike
A blank page
Bruised by ink.
We all build worlds
But we all don't live them.
We are too
Authored into being
By the big Author
In the sky.
The one, the only
The Supreme.
This is a whirling dervish
Of existence
And doubts trail
Lives, worlds, universes.
I recreate images
Of the Author.
The one, the only.
I create,
Therefore, I am.
So I am become
An author
With a small 'a'.
Of a small universe
Worshiped, Loved, Adored.
Saved?
Authors need saving too.
Careful preservation
Between the wrinkles
Of a crumbling multiverse
The Author,
Imagined us out of comets
And starshine
So I am exploding
At the pull
Of a blackhole.
I am authoring
Safety valves
To catch my pieces.
Wait a while
To witness the final act.
In the end
(The Beginning?)

It comes down to
Creation
Salvation
Shanti.

Shelter

Believing in higher powers or just myself.



Would you take
Me in; Tonight?
I am a little lost
In the big ol' world
That they tell me
Was made by you
It's not always
Too nice
Or
Too kind.
This world
They tell me
You made.
Tonight
There is rage
In the wind
And the world
Is red edged
In pain.
I have on
Good authority
That you made
All of this
Just so.
My mother said so
In hushed whispers
In the quiet night
I don't know
If I believe
All of it.
But believing
In something
Bigger
Is keeping
The storm at bay.
I am a little lost
In my head
Tonight.
Could you take me in
Just for tonight
And then let me go?