Universal Paradox
A poem about nothing,
is nothing but trouble.
It would,
one assumes,
have to be in blank verse,
(naturally)
tidy and terse
so as not to burden
readers with any thoughts
more weighty
than meringue,
a metaphor which,
upon reflection,
doesn’t serve at all,
being something,
no matter how light and fluffy.
Consider nothing . . .
and the problem
stands stark before us.
Even dark matter,
nothingness itself for eons,
now suffuses space
between the stars
with something,
(we know not what)
a concept considerably
more weighty
than meringue on a pie
the size of Jupiter,
or Alpha Centari,
for that matter.
And that’s the trouble
with a poem about nothing.
2 comments:
Interesting...
I wonder if a poem can ever be about nothing. It forces everyone that comes into contact to make it some-thing.
It sort of gives me the distinct impression of a thoughtful Creator, not yet clear in his mind, about the thing called "Universe" he is about to call out of the void...and he wonders, and tries to reason it all out, but the sheer complexity of it escapes even his thought; finally there is no more to be thought and planned, and it's "let there be light!" time...
and it all unrolls...
and as the gas bag of Jupiter flies by, he still wonders if it was the right thing, but, what's done is done.
Precisely! When I started this poem it was going to be about that very thing: the impossibility of writing a poem about nothing, but as it the poem developed, like the gas bag Jupiter, there it was, and withal, not bad.
Love your take on the creation. There's also the notion that if humankind does indeed have free will, a debatable proposition although I personally don't agree with the naysayers, if indeed our will is free then God has tied his own hands. He's just going to have to watch what we do and do to ourselves. Unless of course he wants to do something drastic, but that's not His style.
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