The Penguin & The Egg
Far up & away, where our largest myth guards,
the door to the underworld, below in the stars.
There resides a strange bird, who stands tall with pride,
above a small egg, that is growing in size.
A spiral of arms, he's swinging around,
His eye is aglow, and points his beak to the sound...
relic radiation, sometimes called snow,
& in it there sits an orb with a glow.
Undisturbed and in rest, as if something inside,
Six million across, in light years is wide!
And protector above, moves about in a fuss,
in a dance that's as old as the stars & the dust.
And at last when it hatches, in an epoch or two,
answering the question as they merge in the blue:
Which came first? Do we know? The egg or the bird?
They mutually emerged... the question's absurd!
This poem was originally featured in the first issue of the Liminal.