A Reflection on Writing and Existence

by DBLevin

In the beginning
there was god.
God was everything.
He divided himself
into light and shadow
and air and water
and water and land
and so on and so on.

Some of the pieces could see the other pieces
and give them different names,
but they could not see god.

Some thought god was another piece,
because they could only see in pieces.

They created language,
and when they wrote
it was like dividing themselves
into more pieces of god
which looked like just pieces
but were really the whole.

So the writers themselves were like god
and also like their own writing.

This is the secret to the unhappiness of writers
who are constantly striving for something–
the perfect poem,
of which we are a piece
and which is a piece of us.

To recreate god–
to be god

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