Can We Be More Poem by Paul Brookes

Having nothing to offer the Muse,
no sacrifice or rose red as blood,
burnished golden apple or flaming torch.
the room, a universe in the making, went quiet, as if full of thought.
silence hovering at the edge of time.
secrets buds ready to burst forth,
still as yet callow in their infancy.

here in the space between space, a seconds pondering,
is it worth the anguish, love that is.
a prize full of joy and bitterness, the gift of Venus,
her laughter still echos.

infinity is a long time but suppose
the big bang wound back to density.
loves spark not yet ignited, that sets time rolling,
for surely it was sparked by love,
that binder of the universe.

those who have a ring side seat, to event are blinded.
the Muse as always sits on the threshold or the side lines
she laughs as she always does at all mortals fumblings.
'I was here at its beginning, ' she says 'and will be at its end.'

'ergo' she says 'ergo, ergo sum.'
and in the end that's all we can be.