A poem about humanity, the universe, and hope. I like to think about the wheel of fortune when thinking about this poem.
If night shall fall to human kind and dusk does befall us;
Our universe shall go on and make a new, But maybe not more lasting.
When morning did come to us; it came so slow and lazily,
For as the sun came up, it arose ever accelerating and kept itself from fading.
If noon has hit, I do not know,
For that is still being determined;
I indeed do know at least one thing,
This thing which shall be everlasting.
For whether noon has passed Or still to come,
A new day is a making.
In some other place where all is cold,
Some sparks are surely brewing;
If one spark shall set fire and create a new sun,
It’s a new day in the making.
A new day, a new sun,
A new sun, a great beginning,
For all to come from this new sun need only know,
They are part of something crazy.
When tranquility meets a brand new sun,
A force is then created,
The power this force brings is hard to stop,
Just like an angry rally.
Like a rally, the new force changes,
Shaping, Shifting, Splitting,
Sometimes taking hold and going forth,
Yielding new creations.
New creations often yield,
Other better creations;
Once in a while they grow old,
fading back to matter.
But just like day is sure to come, night is a mortal Dagger,
It brings down the finest days, and refreshes them forever.
Just as empires grow and fade, they never last forever;
Our world it seems has lived so long, the end will come someday surely;
If all is in this endless cycle, there is one constant to be sure of;
If matter cannot be created nor destroyed, hope exists in matter;
Some still say that all is doomed,
Others are more optimistic;
None of that matters a sliver,
When hope changes never.
Hope is ever lasting,
So all is fine, all is grand,
Beauty can come from dark and damned,
For nothing is ever certain.
For even our god; oh does he sing,
To the waxing and waning of the universe;
A star grows up,
But always something happens.