Infinity Eyes

First there was nothing, then there was everything, because nothing was really, really boring. Nothing was so boring that it created everything just to have something to look at.

Stardust grew mouths and genitalia and it’s been a hot screaming mess ever since. DNA squirts across the rocks of this spinning space ball, and it learns how to bite and to swim and drive cars.

DNA learned how to cover its body in scales and become enormous so it could eat from the tallest trees. DNA learned how to sprout feathers and soar through the air. DNA learned how to grow opposable thumbs and binocular vision and feelings of personal inadequacy and mortgage payments.

Lovers grab each other’s flesh and moan and mash body parts together, and then babies come out who are lied to about everything.

Dirt stands up on two legs and acts awkward for a little while, then it stops and everyone cries and the dirt returns to the ground. This happens billions and billions of times because nothing loves the show.

Nothing wanted something to look at, so it grew a universe which grew dirt which grew eyeballs which now look at each other. I look at your eyes and you look at my eyes, and nothing purrs “Oh! Well isn’t this something.”

We’re all here watching the big show and being the big show at the same time, watching ourselves get more and more complex as nothing tries to surprise itself. You’ll never surprise yourself nothing, wabba labba ding dang dong Bette Midler pork chop ha ha bet you didn’t see that coming.

And it’s love. It’s always been about love. It sounds hokey and dumb because everyone says it all the time, but they say it all the time because they feel it in their DNA. As your eyes look at my eyes and a manic confetti orgy celebration erupts from the source of the universe at the experience, this isn’t hard to understand.

Nothing is loving every second of this. The universe makes love to itself with sprouting seeds and hatching eggs and devouring teeth and community theater musicals and world wars and lonely bathroom stall despair, the fingers of somethingness stroking the clitoris of nothingness into ever-mounting ecstasy at the experience of existence.

Nervous systems and skin and eyes and ears and noses and tongues come roaring out of nothingness and tumble head over heels into wet, sticky, sloppy sappy love with sex and sunlight and music and flowers and food in a swirling jumble of everything enveloped in nothing. It would not make for a good romantic comedy starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, but it makes for a hell of a ride.

I look at your eyes and you look at my eyes, and they stretch all the way back through the howling primates and devouring dinosaurs, past the primordial soup and the Big Bang to the emptiness which ached long ago for this moment, right here. This love goes way back, my friend. This love created everything for this.

Go take those infinity eyes for a walk now. Feel the rejoicing behind your field of vision at everything that appears. This is the show, my friend. This is it. Nothing went through an awful lot of trouble to get those beautiful eyes front seat tickets to this. Don’t your dare miss a second of it. Don’t you dare close those eyes.

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