Poetic Outlet

In the beginning
There was birth
In a day with a beginning all its own.
Beginning
With Sunrise.
A sun that, in the blink of an eye
Billowed into existence
The life of all men and women,
And with a cough
And a final, vengeful assault
Did die out just as quickly and inevitably
As it was concieved.
The definitive sunset
And death of the infant child
Now wizened and grey,
His cough rocks the world
But his legs haven't the strength
For the assault to leave his own soul.
How easily turbulence reminds us of the inconsistency of life
We find ourselves at a loss
Even to locate a consistent beginning.
How is it that we are so sure of the End?

When air tastes like water, and water like honey, a happy soul finds paradise in their hellish pain.