Creationless Creation (Swarm)

In the beginning there was no one, nothing, not even flux, not even space. Today, we have too many people, too many automobiles, too many guns. Each person part of a story from before, and each person a living link to the first people. Each person needed a mother and a father, and each a mother and a father, and each person from them needed a mother and a father, and each needed a mother and a father, and each person from before that needed a mother and a father, and each person from that needed a mother and a father, and each person before that needed a mother and a father, and each person before that needed a mother and a father, and each person from that needed a mother and a father, and each person before that needed a mother and a father, and the one’s from that needed a mother and a father, and each person’s mother and father needed a mother and father, and each person before that needed a mother and father, and before that someone needed a mother and father, and each person before that needed a mother and a father, and each father from that had to meet first and converse, fall in love to create you. And each person needed a mother and a father, and each mother and father was a baby once. And so backward to the time when animals ruled the Earth, and man and women were a baby bird that fell out of the nest.

    In a creationless creation each epoch of movement is measured just as the sun comes up and down, the only true measurement.

   A day, a year, a life, a planet, a universe. Each of these measures time by itself. Then comes the swarm of people. Call them “Swarm.” Like a colony of termites that can talk and likes to dramatize events to mark time as it unfolds away.

    The Swarm is not really a person, or a living feeling soul. It’s more of a unconscious, inappropriate red color that filled up a paint can too much, and now the paint is over-flowing, and there is nothing to do about the spillage but run to higher ground, or pay someone too poor to pay someone else to clean it up, or push itself to the side (New Jersey).

   The swarm has no soul, as in a matter of fact some regard it as evil. But in fact, the swarm is full of good and bad people, but it’s the bad people that give “the Swarm” its bad name. It’s bad reputation of people starting wars, ending wars, starting wars, and ending wars. It seems some bad people take over the swarm and make it accomplish terrible things. The Swarm that encroaches and puts others into slavery, or breaks into houses at night and steals your belongings. The swarm is people, and what people do.  It’s traffic on the turnpike, a packed football stadium, and opera house, public transportation, the Ghetto, the shopping mall, the city, the towns, the countries, the continents. All these swarms wanting to take what’s yours, hoping you roll over and leave your things for them in the street. Estate sale, sheriff’s sale, my sale, your sale. The swarm gets it. And all the while, mankind eats other animals, which eat other animals. This is the way of the unforseen planet. Chop-houses, slaughter houses, pig farms, trout farms, crab fisherman all scraping the planet to feed the swarm. A whale feeds a dot of the swarm for one day. A lion kills a gazel, a hawk kills a rabbit. A Big fish eats a smaller fish. Joseph eats bacon each morning. A bird eats the worm. All to feed the swarm. Pizza, burgers, fried catfish and soda.

    A father meets a mother, and each day more die, and some babies are born by the thousands each day.

    The world turns, we die and nothing but a forgetting as if we never were. If only the statues could come alive and tell us who labored on them and why, but they won’t, and they can’t, and it’s all a forgetting.

                                    Life is a dream.

    In the beginning, before the swarm, there is just you. By yourself, born as a baby, baptized by earth’s season’s, and the cruelty of growing up. You are on Earth now, looking up, there is space, and the planets, and ever-lasting space beyond. No more swarm, no more swarm out there to overcome you, make you blend into its globular sphericity. You are just dust, stardust, hyrdogen, salt before salt was a known taste. Time is a broken record – tipping, ticking non forward sputtering upside down, stuck, and no hand to budge the needle ahead in sequence.

    There, you are now in the center of the universe. Before time, before planets, before space dust, not even a star. The universe is the size of a ‘pee’, before the big bang. There is, was nothing. Before nothing, there was nothing. Before the universe, before you and I, when the universe was the size of a ‘pee,’ it had to be something before it was a ‘pee.’ To make even a small bubble before the big bang. There had to be something to create something. Something cannot just start from nothing. The vacuum packet before space, before the size of a pee came,  from something just as a mother and father met, and there was born a baby. The baby did not come from a vaccumenless space, but from the power of two forces.

   If the first big bang came from nothing, then this nothing came from an original nothing, a guitar cord never plucked, as there was no cord to strike, yet by some miracle 1 matchstick made a fire without ever striking the force of non-existence.

     So, you are now here. You are not even here, all of this is a dream of some multi-level universe. The Big Bang was just another black hole sucking space into a new multi-dimensional level. As did the baby leave its mother’s vagina sleeve and woke to the backhand of stranger, she cried loud, same as the big bang.

   So if nothing came from nothing and you are something, then you are not here, life cannot be, all of this is from an impossible beginning. Life is a then a dream, and we can create anything. Immovable furniture from a wood tree, a machine from hot metal. Hot metal from the Earth. A planet now deep hidden within a solar system of gases, stars, hydrogen, all of the stars’ regeneration, after-life, planets, life and human psyche.

   Now with less nature and more concrete, the swarm, unthinking has taken over. To exist, one has to keep entering the swarm to survive: family, school, work, even leisure time is with the swarm in Disney World, airports, crowded beaches, national holidays, days off from work spent with the swarm. The machine is on 24 hours a day, red and blue lights stay on all night in my bedroom while I sleep to remind me all my electronics are plugged in. This red and blue light is someone else’s idea, not my idea.

     But since we all are from the creationless creation, something from nothing, from a time when there was nothing rubbing against nothing, from a time before the big bang, before the universe was a ‘pee’, when there were 2 nothings, that equaled not even a dead space, but no consciousness, spec of nothingness…came you and I in this room full of books written by other people. A baby’s eyes luminate bright in full view of the universe dark shine. The baby frolics, cries, sleeps, grows. What is a poet, came from nothing, to speak words of a language created in light of people long ago.

   A language people of the unconscious swarm created from other live and dead languages, incomprehensible. To tell you to go out from here and eat something that tastes good, that’s what life teaches you.

   I can only tell you also …know life is a drum beat in the moment and the broken record is no longer stuck, live in the moment, Live in the moment, be the matchstick striking nothing – a beginning opening to a firey center, just as the universe started backwards from nothing… from nothing to something…

   Nothing …

              to

         

                                   Something…

                                                                            

                                                            Something…

      to…

        Nothing…

…some thing

thing.