Once There Was Nothing

Once there was nothing and nothing existed
Which makes our plot a little restricted.
Since no amount of waffling and bluffing
Can conceal the fact that there simply was nothing.
And how can there be romance and passion.
When beautiful young women aren't the fashion.
Or how will the reader laugh till he cries
In a universe without custard pies.

Now two things are essential to this fiction
A philosopher and the law of contradiction
Since if a thing could both be and not be.
There'd be little point in telling this story.
But this is nothing to worry about
Since the laws of logic don't really count.
And lest the whole point of the tale be missed.
The philosopher didn't actually exist.
This fact producing in him a reaction
Which could best be described as smug satisfaction
Or would have done so had he existed
Since as any rationalist could have predicted.
That this rather confusing state of affairs
In which there are neither joys nor cares.
Was bound to occur sooner or later
In a world which has no maker.
And it's all very well to bring in God,
But then who created the silly sod?

Now just in case you're a bit of a smartarse
Who wants to quote Rene Descartes
That irritating Frenchman who insisted
That if he thought then he existed
Well quite simply, I don't care
The whole point is he wasn't there.
And if that meant he couldn't think
There's still no need to make a stink
For such a disability
Never barred anyone from Philosophy

Now not existing, for some time
Suited our philosopher just fine
He didn't feel a sense of duty
To seek goodness, truth and beauty
He'd never drawn a living breath
So he didn't have to fear death
And he didn't need to worry whether
He'd be made a full professor
Best of all, he didn't go to faculty meetings
Or have to do any undergraduate teaching.

But non existence free from care
Must not be altered by a hair
For if there's anything at all
The whole edifice might fall.
Allow one tiny little atom
And anything might happen.
As for just a single cell
That would be a living hell
For how unless we ban the lot
Do we choose what is and what is not.
But so long as we accept the clause
That nothing is without a cause
Then it should be perfectly clear
That there is nothing at all to fear.
Except logic and the laws of causation
Which aren't really a deviation
And a philosopher who was perfectly sound
Precisely because he wasn't around.
So far then, in our story
Everything was hunky dory.

So there was nothing, and what is still finer.
Is that there was simply nothing else either.
And that is how we come to the part
Where the real fun begins to start
Because when you add nothing and nothing you see,
You might end up with seventy three.
Or even a hundred and ninety six
Unless you accept mathematics.
So lest we end up in a world of free lunches
With pink elephants flying in bunches.
We have to accept the rules of addition
And there's nothing wrong with a little precision
For even a world that consists of negation
Requires a little organisation
Though between you and me I'd ask permission
Not to have to do long division.

Now it's all very well to think in amounts
But what exactly will we count?
For doing arithmetic can be hard
Without money, fingers or Pokemon cards.
We could approach the situation
By using our imagination
For things that don't exist in fact
Can still be notions in abstract
And all the things that might have been
Could paint a very lively scene.
With shapes and colours, sounds and smells,
Cuboids, spheres and things with bells.
Red and green and orange and blue
And sentient beings just like you.

Now I hope your brain is feeling fit,
Because here comes the tricky bit.
We cannot visualise I fear,
That of which we've no idea
And whence comes our inspiration
But from empirical observation
Thus it seems that much was missed
By the philosopher who didn't exist.
But if I can just be allowed
To turn the whole thing around
The Philosopher it is clear
Could neither see or hear
And couldn't use imagination
To help him with idea creation
And he didn't exist, that's understood
But, and here's the important bit,

NEITHER DID THE PHILOSOPHER WHO COULD!

And thus by means foul or fair
We have a Philosopher that was aware
Of everything that might have been
Heard or tasted, smelt or seen.
But as I've all along insisted
It's just that he never existed.

Now all along in this tale
I've assumed our philosopher was male
And quite frankly I don't care
Because in a world so very bare,
There's nobody to give me lectures
About political correctness
And all would have been well if only
He didn't get so very lonely.
For even when they're fully grown
Men aren't completely made from stone
And if they think of female scent
It's all completely innocent.
A soothing voice, gentle and meek
A sisterly hug, or a peck on the cheek.
But if it was just platonic affection
Then why did he have a huge erection?
To say nothing of a strange elation
I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

The Philosopher and his love lay on their backs
Carefully avoiding a little damp patch
Blowing smoke rings into the air
And ignoring their sticky pubic hair.
He had come early, felt guilty and muddled
For still she demanded caresses and cuddles.
Could you love merely in imagination
Or was it just lust or infatuation
And then suddenly all was clear
And he became filled with both joy and fear
For the greatness was in the idea of the act
Not how or whether it happened in fact
If the notion is beautiful; who cares if it's real
There's an abstract heaven that no one can steal
Then she snuggled up to him, cosy and sleek
To hear sweet nothings and stroke his cheek
At which point she had a terrible scare
Since all she could feel was empty air
You see, if one thing is certain and true,
It's that even philosophers need the loo.