"Mandala"
Eternal emptiness static,
It was said and it was done.
Fields of creation galactic,
All but a thought for His fun.
For He knew all of what was to come.
A world, devoid of promise and truth,
Cut down in the prime of youth.
Unaffected, comfortably numb.
Once more, emptiness eternal.
Returned to what was before.
All was but a thought internal.
After all, He can just make more.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world