Out of the Nothing That Was
©May 14th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
First, the hum of mind.
Next, the sound of want.
Then, comes the desiring
The yearning and the seeking,
And the spinning of a Self
Into another, holding
Yet another spool of self
To be spun into newness.
And, out of the silent blood-dark,
A being spins into shape.
And out of the Nothing that was,
Comes forth everything that is now
Which, lying curled within the dark –
A intention, a shifting shape,
A spinning into glowing life,
Holds the heart of sun-and-shadow.
Out of the brooding blood-dark,
Comes a mind, a stirring, a shape,
An abstract intention, a life.
Conscious, attentive, focused,
Glowing with light and impatience,
Composed of disparate cells,
Fusing together for a purpose,
All filled with intention,
We grow into our spinning selves,
Cocooned in a crooning hum.
I think, and thank my mother now.
I think, and thank my daughter too.
And, too, I thank my grandmother,
Also, her mother, and her mother,
All the way back to the blood-start
Of everything, when, a-sparking
Out of the Nothing that wasn’t,
Came forth the Everything that is.
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