very tidy, very simple: nothing
doing nothing, being nothing. no problem.
Time didn't even pass -
after all, nothing was,
and where was it to go, anyway?
But, perhaps, it did come to pass, for
after a while Somebody said something.
Somebody must have spoken for
things started happening very quickly.
That is to say,
nothing was shattered by Voice:
vibration rang through the suddenly extant void,
Coalescing along conductive bubbles of possibility.
It wasn't long before things became recognizable:
lines, arcs, waves, curves, curls
resolving suddenly into something like strings
floating through the erstwhile undifferentiated vacuum:
looping and swooping and soaring
swinging, fluttering and swirling
these two apparent strings floated nearer
and nearer still. It became clear
that however distinct they appeared,
their fates like their origins were already entangled.
They drove on, whipping and vibing as the currents they rode
bucked and flowed together. They neared and touched . . .
the frequency of one pulsed and waned against the other, and
the frequency of the other pulsed and waned against the one
and they wrapped and they spun and they shrieked and twisted,
furiously they wailed and flailed one at another
Finally, they were hopelessly entwined, looped and entrained,
and all the cries and dissonance had floated off into the void.
Yet still they struggled.
They pushed . . .
and they twisted . . .
and they pulled . . .
until
