Unplayed Play

Enough with the multiverse.
The passion for the discrete
Always leads to division,

Then division always sinks
In whatever waves it cleaved.
Too abstract? If there is one

Cosmos, probably many,
But couldn’t you sum them all
As one whole? In any case,

Whole or no whole, you don’t know,
And it’s just sort of sorry
When you keep straining to tell

Stories where you imagine
Your world just slightly altered,
New rules by you, full of you.

Hubris isn’t too-grand dreams,
It’s calling too-small dreams grand.
Your dreams are dreams. They’re all small.

Tell us what to look for, sure,
What unseen you’ve predicted,
But why play what you can’t play,

Except as proof of concept
That you can posit something
By your nature you can’t know?