NaPoWriMo’s prompt of the day is to write a fact poem. I think I could have made a epic-length poem about elephant facts instead I got waylaid by thinking of all of the facts we once knew for truth, all of the stories we had created to explain them, etc etc. I think this poem, at present is skeletal, half-formed, much like my understanding of the world. The subject matter requires a more verbose structure, but this is perhaps some seeds to plant within your mind until I can come back and really philosopher attack this.
The sun revolved around the world,
when it floated on a turtle’s back.
The gods resembled men,
or was it the other way around?
Everyone made bread, tools, fire.
And we all told stories.
Each sunrise was something like a miracle
while nightfall played mysterious.
With all our discoveries and growth,
with all our rationale and facts,
each sunrise is still a miracle.
Nightfall is still a glorious mystery.