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