Chaos: A condition or place of great disorder or confusion.
Sounds like PH to me.
What do we think of “chaos”, on the whole?
What visions come to mind when first we muse?
Will jazz and fusion outdo pop and soul,
while folklore seals the structure of the blues?
Can what was there before the now, be clear?
Can random work in tandem with the known?
Can seconds, somewhere else be like a year
and cartilage converted into bone?
If every atom takes another path
from that which had been written on “that day”,
we may all find we’re due an early bath.
(As ”Physic”’s laws and rules all fade away.)
Yes, “Chaos” our creator should have seen
that Sheldon from “The Big Bang”’s just a poor man’s Mr Bean.
If every atom takes another path from that which had been written on “that day” You have explained chaos in an understandable way. Nice poem. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't think we could survive without chaos. A great poem.