Children of Push
@2012, Olan L. Smith
Push is the foundation
Everywhere I gaze I see push,
No pull is in view — where are you?
My desk feels firm to touch but hearken―
I relate that it is Push dreaming
Such a delusional guy is he, eh?
To hoodwink us into believing we exist
And reality is not emptiness redeeming.
In times of hadrons colliding, a particle un-bundler—
Scientists burrow 'neath the earth, a scheme of CERN,
To send subatomic bits smashing with eagerness to uncover
The Higgs, for a nanosecond of observing trace evidence of thus:
A creator of mass, an attractor that crafts us,
Are we deluding ourselves? We are empty space
An illusion of the Collective Conscious Grace,
A dreamer within a dream or a bundle of a blunder?
I ask, "Where is Pull?" in the darkness perhaps―
Flowing, energizing a revolt against Push's Big Bang
Separating, dividing, scheming a vast vengeance, a universe prolapsed?
By pulling strings and membranes apart, a yin without a yang?
What provides substance?
Do not wager on the boson sought
For surely the question will arise, "What created it, a divine absence?"
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Children of Push
PoetryThis is a introspective look at the reality that surrounds us.
