Cataclysmic proportions
of a diminutive state.
A boundary with no walls,
an infant with no escape. From void to essence
subliminal conscious is formed.
A life of some sorts
who is to say, the norm. Life gives to life,
as death merely accents.
The morality of creation
and by gone days that went.
Gary J. Gunning
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beginning-11/
