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The Big Bang

A Poem

By S E McCarthyPublished 2 months ago 2 min read

Rumour has it every molecule of




And Wonder

Existing in your endless universe

Was conceived in the womb of a

Singularity smaller than an atom.

Is that true?

Could something so vast and violent

(Words unworthy of the truly cosmic)

Spawn from a nano-speck of unstable emotion?

Where you really the first conscious notion –

An idea containing every idea that would

Ever be.

Poor thing;

You must have been bursting

At the seams like an old suitcase

Hurriedly filled with fragments

From a past life no longer wanted;

The case as beaten and bruised

As its owner who dared to pioneer

That oldest of trades –

No, not that one; I mean the other –

That unspoken trade of self-abuse.

It must have been awful being

Weighed down by the shear density of

Not knowing what came before;

Or is amnesia just a convenience?

After all, there must have been something

Before your singular self;

Something caused you to simmer into

A rage so hot you had to invent

Space and time

Just to gauge when to leave.

Like a freshly laid egg you held

Secrets of life before life was even a trend.

Speaking of secrets, did you know there are two types –

The First comes as a whisper

Crawling with insidious intent back to its owner

On broken and scarred knees and forces them

To look on with shame and disgust.

But the second type,

Well, that’s more your thing –

All that matter exploding onto the scene at

186,000 miles per second with so many

Unpredictable effects.

The ultimate show-and-tell

Your white-hot consequence charging blindly forth

Like some noble but doomed light brigade.

Still, it would have been a hell of a thing

To witness.

Like Pandora’s Box all jacked up on

Steroids and acid.

But I get it, now.

I really do.

An entire universe hidden away;

Burning your insides to get out.

It would be too much for anyone to bear;

Even a respectable singularity such as

Your good self.

So there you have it.

Cruel dictator or live-giving prophet?

Either way

Your dirty secrets have been

Laid bare for all to see.

Now we all know the truth –

The only way to feel alive is to

Destroy yourself in the process.

As for the molecules of




And Wonder

Well, I guess they were just an accidental

Postscript of your devastating afterbirth.

sad poetrysurreal poetryslam poetryperformance poetrynature poetry

About the Creator

S E McCarthy

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Comments (2)

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  • S E McCarthy (Author)2 months ago

    Thank you so much. That means a lot 🙏

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