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THE MOTHER OF ALL MYSTERIES
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Does the Universe have a mother?
I do not think it does
Nor do I think the Universe was created from nothing
In Nature there is never nothing
Only something that keeps morphing into new forms
Using the same ingredients
Stirred in the cauldron of time
A rich soup of atoms and titanic forces
Swirled with the wand of change and transformations
Scientists ponder this mystery
And people of faith have beliefs about the beginning
Yet nothing has solved the mystery of our origins for me
Good thing I am content with the mystery
I am a product of this mystery through the process
Of infinite change that has given birth to the splendor and awe
My finite mind admires from my tiny vantage point
Amid the stars
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