Gnosticism
In the beginning
There was the void
Silvery, whispering emptiness
But since everything implies its opposite
A being emerged
With a three letter name
A simple name, as befits the first being
No one really knows if it was more than
"I am"
So we call him Bob
Bob looked upon the void
And decided that his purpose was
To build
First, a land in bright primary colors
Then, others to help him with the work
Finally, he brought forth us
The people who live in the towns of Bob
All was good in those days
Bob and his crew
Raising everything, busy, content
Then it happened
Everyone had a home
The bird, the cat
Each had its place
Vastness had been filled
There was nothing for Bob to do
Bob had created it all
And it was his
So, because his purpose was to build
He did it
He changed the world
After many unchanging days
The first board broke
The people looked on, not understanding
Nothing had ever broken before
For Bob it was the return of the good days
He gathered his crew, rushed out
Fixed the board
Now he could build, rebuild, always
Boards weren't all of it
Everything had changed, everything would break
Bob made miraculous repairs
For broken hearts, broken bones
But as the people grew in number
Bob and his crew started to fall behind
The first death came late that year
Now the people were frightened
And decided to call to Bob
Surely those who called best
Would be fixed first
So they made a priesthood
And the priesthood made a hymn to Bob
To call him:
Bob the Builder!
Can he fix it?
Bob the Builder!
Yes he can!
For a time it worked
Some grew discontented, said we should not look to Bob
That there must be another, greater creator
That our whole world is a shadow, a cartoon
Drawn over reality
But it is all we know
So as the people's numbers grew
The priests made more verses
Calling to the angels, the crew of Bob
Finally, they would try to attract him
By catching up those who doubted in Bob's salvation
Building a pyre of broken boards
And throwing them shrieking onto the flames
Bob is still happy
He has work, always, he does his best
Though few of those with cancer
Find a miraculous cure as of old
And though we teach our children about Bob
We must also teach them
Not everything that is broken
Can be fixed
Copyright 2005 Rich Puchalsky
E-mail: rpuchalsky@att.net
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Last modified: April 2, 02005