Behind The Everything
P Patti Masterman
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Behind everything there’s another behind,
Which breaks the real at the edge of mind,
Where atoms crack and strain to reach,
From side to side, in each ones niche,
Where space is waffling in wild space winds
That eyes of man have never seen,
And space rules all there with a stream
Of proto-matter, at it's whim.
And behind the behind of matter, all
There is an empty field of space,
Where matter thinks it might become;
And then next thing, away it blinks.
And this constant blinking, in and out,
'Now he loves me, now he doesn't'
Is the backbone of the things you see
That gives them all their solid substance.
Nothing coming and going away,
Birthing itself on some cosmic fling,
Appear and fade, no rhyme or reason;
Random access, that's the way
Everything comes from flickering points,
Half real, half ghost, but out of sight,
And that's how miracles can occur,
For matter's the ocean, with a silent roar.
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