If I Were a Poet

He is like the space between words that’s notreallyneeded.
His days are filled with endless decisions,
meaningless but impossible:
What should he eat?
Should he comb his hair?

Then one Friday afternoon,
in the grocery store,
while trying to choose a breakfast cereal,
suddenly he is surrounded by a blinding light,
and everything
STOPS.

The other shoppers, the cashiers, the butcher—
all have become mannequins,
and the store is as silent as the moon.
A minute passes, the light fades, and
someone dressed all in white approaches.
It is the Architect.

The Architect tells him
there is a master plan,
but sometimes—like now—
the plan has to change.
It would take too long to explain,
but this choice of cereal
will determine the future of humanity.

Cornflakes means a world where unspeakable evil is allowed—
but also breathtaking goodness and beauty.
On the other hand, oatmeal leads to a world where everything is just OK.
Either way,
it will be a completely different kind of world.

He asks what will his life be like in this new world,
and the Architect says
when you wake up tomorrow,
you won’t remember any of this;
you will still be a man who doesn’t look like anything,
but you will always comb your hair.