(Kalpa: 4,320,000,000 solar years, equalling a day and night of|
Brahma in which he creates and ends the universe. After 100
years of such days, Brahma and the universe will no longer exist.)
When from the blackness, burst a great spiral|
of luminous gas, the morning of Brahma began.
He wove a net, each stitch a miniature day
and night; in it caught time. When this was done
light condensed like fog to rain, becoming stars;
energy trapped in time slowed down to matter.
The hunter tightened his skein, and matter,|
obsidian fish in a blazing sea, spiralled
down to dots of mineral, nourished by stars.
One became the world, and a new color began:
Blue; the blue sky melted and the sea was done.
Brahma smiled, amused with his pleasant day.
Like an empty sea near a flat shore, his day|
stretched out, a thoughtless time when nothing mattered.
The sea wore down the rocks; nothing else was done
a long time. But the balance wheel, the spiral
set movement, and a new color had begun:
Green; the cool shadow to our orange sunstar.
And in green grass, orange sunflowers made stars;|
algae fed little medallions of fish; day
lilies and tupelo fed bees; birds began
singing about their dreams, and living matter
swept into place on the expanding spiral.
The Brahma opened his net; the gesture done,
he drew his net tight, doubting what he had done|
was good. The new lives, humans, thought they'd star
in fate, though they were late, late upon the spiral.
Volatile as fire, they ended Brahma's day
in red; war broke the thread, unravelling matter
and time; the world ended; Brahma's night began.
In dark, the black garland of the spiral began|
revolving. Brahma dreamt of all he'd done
and smiled, recalling the friendliness of matter;
so he woke, and began the second day of stars
and life. Four billion years is Brahma's day,
and thousands of such days propel the spiral.
But the grace of the spiral leads since time began|
to the strange day when all days are undone:
without Brahma or stars; without matter, the highest matter.