microcosm [a poem]

The Universe is in Us - tahar abroudjameur
One of the areas in which I have experienced extraordinary growth over the past few years, this last one in particular, is my spirituality. I grew up with a particular leaning towards favouring science, viewing it as though it were separate from all the rest of the concepts. As the rebel daughter of a Tarot reader, I subconsciously insisted on opposing my mother in any way that was not aligned to anything I could find through hard research.

Of course, I wasn’t aware of the research that couldn’t be found in my public school’s library.

As I really began grounding myself as a person in my later teens and reached into my passions, I started to explore these ideas, loosely, however, still with the immaturity of “I’m not my mother” rejecting still many concepts. It wasn’t until the unexpected liberation of my divorce and the reclamation of my voice that I started to really hone in on things I felt, I saw, I read, I agreed with, didn’t agree with, etc., and saw walls and boundaries suddenly become less stiff, saw places where ideas merged and what made sense was what felt right.

The timing was, as it always is in hindsight, just right for the discovery of a companion that would only help enhance my understanding of the world around, within, and beyond me.


I feel like a microcosm of the universe,
the way we’ve hurtled into one another so suddenly.
Are we particulates destined for our own big bang of brilliance
or two stars slipping into a black hole of the most unknown parts of the world?
Is this a creation, destruction
or simultaneous combustion,
one such that destroys in order to create,
a phoenix-start to a new world and order of life?
You asked once, “what’s 10 minutes or a decade”
and answered yourself that a being is eternal,
yet I find myself disposed selfishly to a certain preference of physical longitude,
scientific query ebbing me to discovery of where this could lead,
fascinated both by the allure of creation,
and the blood wet revival emergence of certain destructions,
the birth that tears the bearer.
Whichever the resultant, cat-like curiosity has me captivated:
call it delusion or fancy or youthful ambition decrying the illusion of wisdom, but
I can feel the speed of the universe vibrating in my bones,
and some part of me knows that this is what it is to fly.
This is how we were meant to travel this life.

6 Comments Add yours

  1. augustmacgregor says:

    A powerful and deep poem, and it vibrates with the wonderment of simply being alive.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I enjoyed reading your perspectives and your poem. I don’t get any contradiction between spirituality (not religion) and belief in hard science; there is much that science cannot explain; so fir me spirituality lives comfortably in that space. But I am not thinking of religious dogma, which, for me, is at odds with much of scientific truth.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sharkey says:

      Daniel, as I grow in this area, I’ve begun to see the contradiction I once constructed is very much a part of my own inaccurate attempts to file and catalogue everything into its separate parts of the world. Even as I’ve relaxed and really begun to open my mind’s eye, I still can’t help but be reminded of where I once stood each time I find surprise rise up when the two collide in a way that is not only harmonious, but makes a person step back and say, “Oh, well, duh.” I agree with your sentiment that religious dogma is at odds and that was where a part of my flaw was – as a youth, I didn’t clearly see the distinction between religious and spiritual thought.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, I think many people miss the distinction. But to me it is so obvious.


      2. Your post prompted me to repost an old poem that sort of sums up my thoughts on the subject. http://writinginairplanes.com/2015/01/01/faith-3/


Give Sharkey a piece of your mind.

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