Dark and formless,
a great power gathered in a spot,
Ready to explode.
Waiting.
Matter pour out in a bright flash,
spreading themselves
Across the vast empty space.
Space, dark it was no longer.
Great surge continues.
Like history repeating itself,
Matter gather once again,
Forming beacon of lights,
With lumps of rocks and gas
Dancing around like children.
River of time flows unabated.
Somewhere in this cooling canvas,
is the violent birth of blue marble.
Graceful and mellow as time goes,
Came more sparks.
Blue marble is now green, blue and brown.
Bran's World 