I contain multitudes in the grand galactic scheme of things
Born of some celestial goop spattered on a cooling rock
With billions of years of bad decisions backing me up.

The air I breathe, the water I drink, the food I eat
All of it on loan from somewhere very far away
But that leaves the question of how did we get here?

I mean really get here. What exactly was in that primordial soup?
The things in nature that can be described as some fertile broth
Are very, rarely anything appetizing or appealing

We never talk about that goop, that was just the start.
Sure a watery, rich comet striking the earth is fine
But even that had to start somewhere.

Did the almighty have a stuffed up nose
That her or she or it rocketed upon the earth
while exclaiming in relief, “it is good.”

Maybe some transient pervert got a little too excited
Turned on by the birth of stars and first sunrises
A veritable big bang into the right chemical conditions

I suspect an alien in need of relief pulled over one starry night
And popped a squat in the obscuring clouds of a vulcanized crust
A fertile beginning for a new world sprouting from shit.

After all, the universe passes through me.
Every day, I gather the sun,
I reap the earth,
I consume the cosmos
And then I shit, fertile, rich and often.
If I squatted in some goldlocks zone
Found a spot that was warm, moist,
with the proper amounts of starlight
I too would give birth to a world.