The Big Bang set the arrow of time
Fourteen Billion years ago,
So now, in this earthly abode,
We cannot unscramble an egg
No matter what the math may say.

But whether we exist or not
Is of little concern: I think,
We all think, holding consciousness
For a few decades of timeflow
While the theostronomers debate.

The expansion of the universe accelerates,
A cosmological fertility rite ensues,
Giving rise to lumps and bubbles
That seed the heavens evermore,
Casting doubt on infinity's shiny future.

The cosmic horizon, that feeble spray
Of elementary particles and radiation,
Glows with a fraction of a billionth of a degree
As uncertainty takes its principled stand
And defines what barely can be seen.

Flawed variations might co-reside
With the outnumbered reality we perceive,
Stirring questions of weirdness
That must need be addressed
Before we make sense of creation.

Without the baggage of stars and galaxies
Persisting in promise and disappointment,
Our world might better be clearly explained
With a plethora of warm, heart-felt treatises
Than cold eye of scientists and skeptics.