οὐδὲν ἐξ οὐδενός (Greek); ex nihilo nihil fit (Latin) 

We're told we have nothing
to fear from the gods: the universe
operates following only the codes of a pre-
established science, not the fallout 

from their bitter wars or petty 
jealousies. The atoms of what we 
call our fate are mistakes made
from basic human imperfection. 

How could anyone know the child 
would one day turn against the parent?
How could we know one would drift down-
river while the other spent the days

weeping into her tea? If nothing could
ever be produced from nothing, neither 
sadness nor happinesss nor unknowing 
can be blamed for any beginning

or ending, nor the long accordion
in the middle. Light rises, light sets.
At dawn, birds forage in the garden
of the house finally abandoned by its 

occupants. Who knows the real cause
of anything that happened? A vessel
breaks, spilling its contents— each
had need of the other to continue. 


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