You Are Not Here By Accident Poem by Patti Masterman

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.