When the universe stretched itself to its limit,

Unravelling the very fibre of its being

Into threads so minuscule 

It dissolved into nothing, everything.

But the cloth could only hold on so long.

And the angels stopped their holy song

To go and find a a man

To sew back together the sacred bands.

They found a tailor willing to do the job

They gave him a needle made out of pixie dust

They hoped he would fix the world with a stitch

But he was a mere mortal, their expectations were unjust.

He did the best he could

Of course it wasn’t enough

The fabric of reality smothered him

Consumed his soul slowly

Until his breath gave birth to a new universe