The Pebble In My Shoe

Inside the pebble in my shoe
might be a universe.

We don’t know
how much space a universe takes up.
Might be many civilizations in there,
colluding, working my foot into agony.

Maybe they think
they are appeasing God,
and maybe they are.

In the pebble universe
they serenely do not know
the nature of reality.

In this universe we also know 
little of the nature of reality —
the difference being
that we know this and are rendered
far less than serene by the knowledge.

Wait a second, you say —
if they know a universe and
are part of ours, why are we describing them
as separate from one another?
Isn’t this a case of scale
or compartmentalization?  All one
universe, broken into parts?

Wait a second, I say.
Boundaries, walls, hard edges.
I’m in pain.  There must be
another universe. Our own
would never hurt me.

In the pebble universe
they say
the same things we say here
only smaller.

Turning on the news
again in this universe and
watching the news of this universe,
or the news from inside the pebble
that irritates me so, or maybe
it’s the news of the one universe
that holds us all.  I’m in 
as much pain as all of them can hold
and unable to stumble away from it.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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