The Bow That Shot Time’s Arrow

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From the hot, bright birth of stars’ and galaxies’ first light

to the soft thin glow of eternally cooling night,


event after event reveals an history sublime

and hints at hidden treasure in the mystery of time.


Stars float in space, skymarks shining bright;

we see an expanse of blackness punctuated by white.


Whence does this all come and whither does it go?

And why does it go at all and how could we ever know?


Some say that Reality began in a great resounding bang,

but did it also hint at archery with a bow’s resonant twang?


The bare fact of existence emitted a great luminous chime,

as the point-instant of Creation launched the arrow of time.


Undulades of ghostwaves erupted in endless night,

bringing into frigid blackness the glow of hot pure light.


Ghostwaves fly at the speed of light at once in all directions,

forming interference patterns that comprise matter’s confections.


Surging out of Creation, the arrow splits one force into three.

Matter condenses like morning dew at the dawn of what will be.


Forward the arrow in its flight seeks to minimize density of action;

brilliant hot flows into darkest cold as if by some attraction.


But there is no pull, only push, as order into chaos dissolves

and the arrow of time flies onward as the Universe evolves


And entropy increases forever as the arrow hurries on;

little bits of order arise and then are simply gone.


We know that the bow and the arrow are related as cause and effect.

The bow remains invisible: it’s the arrow that we detect.


Across the sky glows invisibly, radiation faint and sublime,

the twang from the bow that shot the speeding arrow of time.


As we look out into the void with eyes that cannot see

we pick up light that is not light and know that it must be,


over a range of temperature that reads both low and narrow,

the electromagnetic twang that came from the bow that shot time’s arrow.


Time’s arrow in its flight is something we’ve come to know,

but we know every bit as well that we can’t comprehend the bow.


Trying to describe the bow, into silence we must fall.

And what we can say of the Archer Itself is simply nothing at all.


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