God made the world with his mouth.
He spoke, and the heavens appeared.
Imagine a room with no windows
or doors (Once, trapped on elevator in Paris,
far away from everyone who knew
my name, I was free
to be anyone. I spoke
and nothing appeared. . .).
Read the rest of this poem (as well as another) here: https://plumepoetry.com/the-anonymous-city-and-genesis/