It's kind of fun to wonder about that
That space itself is a construct
Hard to picture, isn't it?
But air itself was once hard to comprehend
Then vacuum
But vacuum is just space devoid of air
Like highways devoid of cars
So what holds vacuum up?
We can all find space
In the infinitely big to the infinitely small
Can space be so small as to not exist?
Even in a black hole
Where matter is supposedly dense
Very, very dense
Yet even in a crowded train
There are pockets of space
We are not uniform
Is what makes space out there uniform?
Are the particles out there dancing different?
That somehow they are space and yet not space?
Like when blood flows through water
Is it more conscious of its stream?
Or that its movement define water
The nucleus makes the atom
The quarks make the nucleus
Yet, charm and strange particles make the quark
Who makes these still?
Or anything with mass
For what is an object without mass?
A soul? A soul that runs the machine
That machine which is us
The sum of all parts
Really, everything has to move
If not, standstill is the death of us
So everything that moves is life
How a knitting needle has to move
To make a fabric we can feel, see
When it stops, creation is halted
We know everything is a probablity
Where the electron might be
It blinkers on when we see, off when we don't
So how will space collapse?
When gravity is weak or strong?
'Strong' it is by intuition
But what if weak is the answer
When pockets are torn in the fabric of space
What some call 'dark matter'
Is that why they exist?
In the absence of gravity?
For it is in the dark, that space matters not
We stand alone, all by ourselves
We see not how far the distance
For only in distance, we find space
And in space, we find ourselves
A reason to be, a reason to exist
And that is something in nothing
- by TC Lai
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