You can hear the sound of creation
Quietly whispering through space
Last remnants of the explosion as
The Big Bang first took place,
Starting off the expansion
That ended in contraction
That in time formed the first stars,
Can still hear sound of that reaction.
And, so the process started with
No indication of hurry or haste
And they say in this long process
Never an iota of any material waste.
Every atom of every element used
Over and over and over again
A constant recycling so that
Never any matter loss or gain.
Everything is made of stardust,
Even beings like you or I
And we return to stardust
When we eventually die,
And eons in the future
We may have drifted afar
To be part of the substances
That coalesce to birth a new star.
In the context of the universe
Is that not a type of rebirth,
Being part of a star that in time may
Nurture and harbour a new Earth.
A beautiful concept as the universe
Renews and steadily moves on
So that in one form or another
A being is never ever truly gone.
Maybe with no consciousness
Maybe without any soul
Maybe just a sense of satisfaction
Of being the part of a new whole.
There are stars in nurseries
Just waiting to fully form
Made from matter of the dead
In that celestial renewal norm