The greatest minds insist
That the universe began
In a walnut shell.
How long do you suppose that walnut
Sat in a bowl on God’s kitchen counter
Before he picked it up and cracked its shell?
Did God suspect its contents
The day he squeezed its plain, unremarkable facade?
I too am a plain, rough, wrinkled nut
Lost among the bushels.
Yet when the day should come
That I’m placed between the grips
And casually squeezed
Until I pop and splinter,
My natural resistance
Failing under pressure,
As sure as I’ll be that my world has ended,
Will not that be the day
That the long-compacted energy
Will burst, expand,
A blinding flash of light
Escape its shell –
The birth, the instigation
Of infinite, light-speed expansion?
If only nuts were not so fond
Of their minuscule darkness.
This piece was published in 2014 as part of the 3rd Annual Mormon Lit Blitz by the Mormon Lit Lab. Sign up for our newsletter for future updates.
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