The Myth of Everything by Russell Galea
Everything created Something– eleven of it, and called it Morg.’
He helped them grow, he helped them know, he helped them so.
And as they grew they birthed life, and worshipped Everything
He was content for they knew their places.
Alas, not all’s well that ends well
For they didn’t hide their faces
And all their sinning cases
Took over all the races,
And so, Everything was enraged.
He yearned for the balance,
Torture and penance
That previously he tried to assuage.
That balance was Nothing, and such he was summoned.
And with the Elven, the first, he found no resistance.
He destroyed their home; turned into black holes
And the Elven themselves were turned into Drows.
The remaining Elves leapt into unknown,
The cosmic seas carried their souls,
Anoqians and Merceptians,
Both fighting for reign,
Ignoring the Elven,
Didn’t care what they say.
Eureka, the Elven home!
The undead Morg Rider
Sword yield and glider;
Annihilation, Obliteration, Extermination.
The dominating five races;
The Ostarians, The Gankuri, The Merceptians, The Anoquians, The Varukians:
(There were also the sole riders; the Arthropodians,
Who detected, predicted, and set off to no ends)
Did Nothing conquer all?
He had lost naught but time.