You Are Not Here By Accident

A world made up of emptiness If you knew what surrounds us Empty space where there should be no room No room for a hiccup or a satellite moon Everything squeezed into nothing close by All touching each other, on the by and by Tiny seed of Big Bang, the size of a pea But it's been filled up mysteriously With the imagination of He who imagines He imagines all; the vista is endless It's all a thought in that limitless mind Of space and air and nothingness so fine Light years in an atom, miles in electron With an iota of quantum in between them Because all the space that it occupies Is infinitesimal and ad infinitum It's hidden inside, and so is wrought In the single instant of His single thought And when He blinks, a whole new creation Might form on His eyelash; a flash ideation He fills it all up with more nothing and then Breathes in everything imagined, on whim And so He imagined you, and here you are On a ball of clay, by a fiery star.