“Thus Spake Zarathustra” by Yury Fomichev

insatiable hunger of galaxies
driven to swallow each other
mad parsecs of mayhem
where trillions of stars
clash in vehement chaos
colliding destroying creating
recombinant violent things

new morphologies drawn
into volatile vacuums
that radically alter the
blood-gas of gravity
churning the was and the is
until notions of sameness
no longer obtain

cosmic rudiments torn
then rebonded reborn
black holes seething
reform into one singularity
lusting to deepen the warp
that would steepen the curve
giving spacetime its sway

inorganic materials
swarm in mad storms
of a seminal stardust
celestial wombs heave
with mysterious matter
grown angry and urgent
astronomy taken to tantrum

miasma inducing vast
indistinct spasms of nebulae
blackened and bruised
by the paradox force of
destructive creation
a brutal nativity given to
fierce cataclysmic explosions

in yield of atomical quanta
among which an infinitesimal
number of pieces give seed
to astonishing molecules
building block elements
marked by a rare bizarre
spark of potential for life

by such spawn of congenital
virtues of violence
we came to exist
and by being we came
to the thinking
and thought led to wonder
why we in our nature

behave with such cruelty
killing ourselves with
remorseless abandon
as if self-destruction
were hard-wired instinct
till wonder gave worry
and worry self-loathing

and here have we come
with our moral inventions
in love and in hate of a God
in our furious turns
testing ethics to pacify urges
subdue mitochondrial menace
yet failing by any true measure

and here have we come
to the brink of a nihilist fate
bloody garments our hairshirts
of ignorance not understanding
why some are so bad
yet uncomfortably certain
why some are so good

we appear to know less
than we knew in the cave
when the clan and the tribe
in their smallnesses
simplified choices
and rarely would make
a mistake more than once

and here have we come
to confront whom we are
our ugly incongruous selves
inconspicuous specks
in a universe troubled by
nature that stems from a
ruthless ancestral calamity

nucleotides flawed with
terrible nuance of
vicious propensity
slipped into primitive cells
and asserted themselves
co-dependent with acids
benign in defining identity

and here have we come
blest and cursed
good and evil within our
most ancient deep creases
of cosmic dichotomy
life in itself one long chance
to earn grace or damnation

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“God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?” 

 – Friedrich Nietzsche