Smell of singed Fur branches
A thing lodged in the past.
Salty winds gently whistling in
Over the tropical Sea
Brushes my face pleasurably.
Up there, wherever that is
Some stars, wayward Fireflies, twinkle
Their On-Off embers, as many
Singularities, in quick, quick succession
Burst open their compacted burning interiors
Showering nascent galaxies
Into an expanding mother space.
One Bang gives rise to many, many.
My eyes roam through beyond Andromeda