The cosmos is an old canvas sack

slung behind the Creators back

as She slogs through undeveloped space

thinking, “Location! Location! Location!”

Wondering which plot in the universe

She will develop next,

way out there,

somewhere.

This ceaseless speculation

tires the Old Lady,

so every seven days

She rests from Her wanders

on whatever available rock recliner

floats around out there.

A residual from some previous miscalculation of Hers.

As She recuperates,

She unzips Her canvas back pack

inhales the sometimes sweet, sometimes sour oder

of her creations floating around inside

and exhales Her Spirit,

making everything in there,

electrons, solar systems and tad poles

a bit more sacred than ever before.

Some people call this periodic recusitation

“Sabbath”.

She calls it, “Taking a breather”.

Well, which ever,

She tells us to remember

to inhale deeply,

breathing in Her Holy Breath.

She’s the Boss.

And it’s a gift from Her.

So I do.