Bubbling and Boiling

Billions of swirling ephemera

In beakers, bowls, broken shards of bone, bouncing balloons

Bobbing in the etheric tide, brim-full with the brewing of Worlds.

many will grow to be vast beyond comprehension

and others won’t last beyond their own completion  

right now,  they are merely chaotic clumps 

of cells learning how to be cells.

The Mad Scientist, fondly called Time, 

erratically stirs and tends the nuclear furnaces 

-- while steadily conjuring names. 

Not just for the Worlds themselves, 

but for the sentient potential each held within

the unborn lives,  civilizations, and epochs.

Would they wonder about their origins?

Peek behind the veil of creation?

Like a Clockmaker glancing 

at the gears and tools in their hands, 

trying to feel a fraction of Power?

Or will they start where they are, 

and what they know, touch and see, 

using only evidence to foresee their destiny?

After all, why wonder about creation?

--when you have more control and say in Evolution?