In the darkest of hours,
before everything was new,
all was cramped into nothing no one knew.
nothing in plenty, nothing in few,
all had nothing with nothing to do.

then the day had finally come
when time would start it's desperate run.
a journey in stillness ,with the present done,
and the footprints of the past, forever numb.

no day before this had ever seen
the beauty of the night through the oceans sheen.
no night before had ever seen the moon,
but all this and more just waited for soon,
their beauty would meet in familiarity their doom.

then people were born , a few thousands from two,
and they looked and prayed to the yellowing moon.
they searched in hope for a second sun,
but about this they were mannered, kept mum.

searching in vain till their insane minds crumbled,
they killed the ones who against it mumbled.
a price mankind would have to pay,
for the search that will end when death is at bay.

some things remain at their best untouched,
fed by thought and music’s lust,
meant to transcend all that can be said
about the unborn living and the living dead.