Looking back on our times
along narrow straight lines
receding like rays to a point
to a beginning we’d anoint
as the start of everything
or a transition from nothing.

We might see how a slight
change would cause a flight
of future fancy less or more
sending rays thru another door
than the one from which we gaze
and the changes might amaze.

Would we ponder if we are here
by chance or by design made clear?
Would all other light source rays
cross our paths or recede our gaze?
And might it change this poems end
if such life-light rays were to bend?