Something’s Wrong

Something’s wrong: haven’t you always wanted to say that? Something’s wrong – but what? Something’s wrong – and something vast.

Something’s wrong. Can’t you see it? Don’t you know it? Like a sickness. Like a poisoning. Of the whole Creation. They sought to poison all of Creation.

 

Something’s wrong: whispering. Something … in the heart of things. It’s cosmic, philosopher. I know it.

Something’s wrong. But what is it? What could be wrong? It’s wrong for us. This is not our world. This is the wrong world.

 

Something’s wrong. And it’s very deep. It’s a worm in the heart of the Creation. Something’s wrong with the Creation. With everything. And who’s going to put it right?

 

Something’s rotten in the Creation. Something’s poisoned in the Creation. Something’s corrupted in the Creation. There’s some catastrophe in the Creation.

And there’s something wrong with us. Something’s wrong with the world – this world.

 

Something’s wrong – doesn’t the wind say that? Something’s wrong: doesn’t the air throb with it, the words, Something’s wrong? Something’s wrong: isn’t it whispered in the falling rain?

Something’s wrong, says the whirling snow. Something’s wrong, says the cold. Something’s wrong says the metal cladding. Something’s wrong, says the cold light.

 

Something’s wrong, say our hearts. Something’s wrong, our souls say.

Something’s wrong in the order of things. And in its disorder. Something’s wrong cosmically and microcosmically. Something’s wrong ontologically. Like some universal cancer. Like some absolute cancer. Something’s wrong, and is asking for help.

 

Something’s wrong in the earth. In the concrete. In the paving stones. In the ground beneath our feet. Something’s wrong there. Something echoes wrongly, down there. Something sounds. Something rumbles.

Wrongness passing over wrongness, like tectonic plates.

And evil, moving in the sky, like a murmuration. Evil up there, as well as down there.