THE BOLOGOVS OF BEING

Out in the mold of time
In the dark ages before the dawn of time
A mighty road emerged from the mists of mystery
To fork into the twin roads of being and unbeing

The mighty road's beginning, if any, is unknown
And the eons it passes through forgotten
The feet that trod on it are long gone
And the footprints washed away by the sands of time

The country in which it passes through is faded
And the cobbles worn by the drag of time
The travellers on this road are strange fiction
And the makers of it a stranger mystery

The horizon from which it comes is lost in the fugue
of incomprehensibility
And the still mightier road it forks from, a mystery to
even the gods we know
The junction to the twin forks of being and unbeing
is a silhouette crossbreed of something and nothing
And the architect of the wormholes to either
destination a being with one foot straddling unbeing

To which fork did the ancients choose for their sojourn
in the dawn of time?
From whence did they get the map of either fork, and
from which beings...or unbeings?
Through which fork are we still treading, we that call
ourselves living beings?
And are we the beings, or are we just not yet reached
the destination of the road of unbeing?