Within the polluted forest of hair
On the giant’s head
Two sides fight
Teeth sharp and wicked
Oblivious is their host
To war against each other
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The math of me
Is the mystery of you
The potential substructure
The comprehensive sweep
We own the
But not the between
The system of chemicals and reactions
Ruled by responsibility
Those are the easy parts
Troubled only by
The answer is easy
Just too small
Like hell on the skin
A storm is coming
Sky turns black
With white lightening
With angry gales.
Squawk of seagulls
The slow wash
Of the water
Lapping up onto the beach
This is nothing
From nothing to blackness.
From nothing to blackness to the beginning.
From nothing to blackness to the beginning to something
From nothing to blackness to the beginning to something to more
From nothing to blackness to the beginning to something to more to anything
From nothing to blackness to the beginning to something to more to anything to me
From absolute nothing. Not a blackness. Not an anything. Nothing. Cannot recall. Cannot recall. Cannot recall. Beyond nothing. Beyond birth to knowing nothing to birth to infinite possibilities. Cannot fathom the blackness of nothing. Cannot write the nothing. Cannot repeat the nothing. The nothing is crushing potential.
Or did he
Some rumor he became a Truck driver out of Bozeman, Montana
others suggest he’s a short order cook in Amarillo, Texas
Both might be right
Both might be wrong
Some say he might live forever
Others argue he was never born
I like to think the mystery is better then any reality
And hope the truth never comes out
It’s in this small moment that a universe exists
A simple creation
A flake of ice
It falls with glory from the sky as everything
Is and in a flash
Seeping into the fabric of a wool jacket like it never existed at all
The universe lives.
It feels every thing from the blackest of dark matter to the smallest speck of mold. Life is life.
It changes and stretches and morphs dependent only on the stimulus around.
The range is thin but the range of living things to fit with the billions of niches can run into the infinite.
Creatures huge and small.
Enormous and microscopic.
Sentient and not.
Aware of their soul and just fodder for a conception equation.
Offspring. Children. Parental responsibility. The very nature of existence is male/female. Fitting and holding. The ying sheltering the yang. The man and woman.
Nothing is ever wasted. Garbage thrown out is fuel in somewhere else.
The universe is patient.
The motions that set it off a mystery.
The universe is a Rube Goldberg machine of nonsensical accidents.
A pinball machine with no pongs to hit the ball or have any control.
Time is an infinite loop. One end is another beginning. An end doesn’t even have to be noticed for trillions of years. But the clump of ice strewn out from one explosion will become involved with something eventually.
Time is on the side of happenstance.