To Be Poem by John Prophet

To be.
To
exist.
What
did it
take?
How
likely?
What
are the
odds?
Incalculable
actually.
Universe
appears.
Sun
flashes,
lignites.
Earth
arrives.
Life
somehow.
Asteroid,
shuffles
the deck.
Rearranging
biology.
Hominids
arrive.
Countless
iterations,
generations.
Match after
match.
One
to the
next.
Genetic
materials
precisely
aligned,
arranged.
Rearranged.
Swapped.
One
to the
next.
Eons
in the
making.
YOU!
The odds?
There are
none.
No
pressure!