Would You Like To Meet The Fabric Of Existence? : Poem

What if someone said to you,

‘Would you like to meet the fabric of existence?’

And you said, ‘Yes.’

What would it be like?

What colour would it be?

Would it be large and if so,

How large?

Could you touch it?

Or smell it?

Or even bring it back to show your parents.

What would you tell them?

‘I’d like you to meet the fabric of existence.’

Do you think they would be shocked?

‘What’s his name?’ cries your Mum.

‘Where’s he from?’ enquires your Dad.

‘And what do his parents do!’

But he has no name.

Comes from nowhere.

And has no parents.

But he loves to play.

Always playing.

With time.

With creation.

With the destruction

Of stars and dreams.

Endlessly creating new people, new planets, new languages, new species.

If you met the fabric of existence

How would you feel?

Maybe scared, initially.

Something so vast.

No boundaries

No signposts

No name to call it.

And to feel it completely

You would have to give up your ground.

Can you handle that?

To have no name.

No boundaries.

No sense of self or place in this

Vast and uncompromising universe.

Yes? No?

Maybe you would put it back and say no thanks.

I’m quite happy with who I am.

My laptop. My living-room. My unconventional eating habits.

Maybe you would put him in a box,

And call him GOD.

Labels are nice.

Boxes are nice.

To contain things is nice.

And if your parents ask,

‘Where did that big, ugly, friend of yours go?

You know the one without names, or boundaries, or parents.’

And you would say,

‘I don’t know he just disappeared.’

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