This thing

What is this thing, 

this person, 

this entity,


and powerless?


An idea that we need?

A person shrouded in mystery?

A force painting the universe?

Love and hate personified?

Marked in history?

The universe itself?


Or maybe out in the nothing

beyond somethings?

Without form or void.


I grow too metaphysical.


For maybe this…this..this 

name without a name is

grown inside us,

gestated through faith,

a creature feeding on belief that 

cannot exist without it?



Cannot it exist without us?

Without us, who, for all we know,

are the only creatures in the universe

that could contemplate such a thing.


Or maybe we are, in truth,

the thing itself?