She was not conceived nor is she now
yet she was born in secret for no one
was there to witness the event, the first,
how from the hottest womb she was expelled,
into creations engineered by a talented brother,
following him through nothingness to keep up
with his ceaseless expansion, defining each other,
for without the one there is no other,
to conquer emptiness filling it with substance
sparking phenomena in succession,
her mere existence serves
a multitude of creatures’ wayfare
along unfolding vastness until
a species like no other perceives her presence,
proceeds to take her measures, inventing
numbers to trace her steps, notions of seconds,
the scattered tribe glimpses her through motions
noting the passage of stars on cave walls,
their habits, a regular cadence erecting stones
unveiling her concreteness though she hides
for no one to see her, invisible spectre
leading us to wonder whether we invented her
whilst we blame her for the shortness of a life
filled with pains and pleasures, and for that
she does not resent us, on the contrary
she embraces us singing lullabies
of yesterdays, as we dream our tomorrows.
Do you know her?
[Featured painting: Moving Time by D.]