Poem: The Split

The Split

There is a space between the trees
that has come to be through strange means.
It happened long ago, long enough, at least
that no one here knows the origin,
why ot how or when it happened
or even what it was that did occur,
or maybe it was always that way
and it only seems too strange
to be what was always so.
It is not a thing, is only an absence,
but it still contains a mystery,
must have a past, must have been there
and there is some story within.
No one knows it.  It too is an absence.
We can only fill it with assumptions
or other, perhaps better, inventions.

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