Residual Radiation

It's not just the static on your TV screen.
We're all residual radiation from the Big Bang.
Are you kidding me? Have you not seen my
son's face, his five-year-old face, flushed with
exuberance from a puddle of last night's rain?
Spinning and splashing, he veritably throbs
the ancient power and light of the universe,
emanates the energy of the ages making its
residence, now, in his small, muscled frame.
Existence is nothing but pulsing play of light
and heat. To be is to be at home in Creation,
where nowhere fails to exude the original fire.
Let this be a sign unto you: your heart beats,
bangs out the echo of beginning without end.