What do I know?
Nothing and everything
And that there is beauty in all the above.
They are connected to the world through a series of invisible golden strings
The puppeteer pulls at nylon threads
And they are dragged in another direction
Following a flower
In someone like myself, this would inspire dread
But they have made friends with the chaos
And they have fallen in love with the puppeteer
They have also fallen in love with specificity
She is calm and introspective
And finds beauty in complication
She has cut herself free of the strings
To focus on what she chooses
And against the backdrop of the sky, you see her and them
One freed by choice and the other emancipated by the possibility
Their lips touch in front of the melting oranges and reds
And they know nothing and everything, and they find beauty
The flower is purple.
What do I know?
I know that I love you
And there is beauty in all the above
I exist in the uncomfortable space between nothing and creation
And I do not know who I am
Black and white and black and white and black and white and black and
Why does the world occur within me frame by frame?
Did I sin in a past life?
Like the screaming man on the street says,
As he furiously waves a crossed book?
Is there a reason I am different
To everyone I have ever met?
Is there a reason by words come to me
As easily as the Nile flows downstream?
Is there a reason why I see in technicolour?
Why is it that others skim over beauty like the Yellow Pages?
Looking only for the number they want?
They spray paint a tree with numbers
Petty communications covering knowledge Forever Old
Metaphysics taken too far eats away at my sense of being
Why am I the one who can slip into a space of wonder?
Let me slip into this space in between
As I illuminate the universe, blooming
Hand grasping brushes, poised over the frame
Fill it all in one fragment at a time
Like a colour-by-number activity book
I am a child at my IKEA crafting table
I look up at the world
It smiles and guides my hand
Black and white and black and white and black and white and
I exist in the unknown space between nothing and creation
Do I have to know who I am?
I exist in technicolour.
Zenny (Alex Rich) is an 18-year-old genderfluid, queer and neurodivergent poet, writer and theatre-maker, intrigued by existentialism and how the world is woven together. They have previously been featured in QUT Glass and ScratchThat Magazine.