The Innocent Cosmology
All I can ever hope to see is my own reflection.
If I gaze at the sky looking for my past, everything goes back to a point of absolute nothingness where a cosmic explosion generated everything. That big bang is the moment of my conception, the orgasm that created me.
Every myth is a metaphor of my own youth, a tenuous and distorted memory of my past, the paradise lost.
All cultures have a story about giant, powerful gods who inhabited the planet and lived among the people who worshiped them.
When I was a kid, I lived among those giants. They use to help me when I called them; they changed my diapers and fed me when I was hungry. They picked me up when I fell and they healed me when I was sick. They also showed their anger and punished me when I misbehaved and I didn’t fulfill their wishes.
I grew up and they slowly vanished. All that is left from them are their legends.
In the future, the universe will dissolve and get extinguished in a black hole. That hole will be my tomb.
