Staring at Knots


Streaming lightly, pushed by feather-soft
gusts of energy
Puffing gently on lazy balls of matter,
globs of being,
Knots in an intelligent thread woven
throughout creation.

All things not things tied together
but twisted
And shaped from the same not-thing thread,
And twined into patterns various
and bold.

Should some one being, greater than all, tug
at the frail edges
Would creation unravel before us, as we
untied, unformed,
Stretched to nothingness with silent screams
finally realize
The one great truth–

There are no beginnings
No edges
No boundaries
But those we imagine
Staring at knots.


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