These Atoms Speak

These atoms pulsate,
they call my name,
slaughter thoughts of time linear,
where conscripted sheeple murmur not,
in this space, possibilities lie.
Nothing is empty.
Nothing is there,
all is between the space between here and there,
molding everywhere that is,
creating that netherworld.
Neither here. Neither there.
Where the nucleus thereof in this space,
divide thereof that which is and which is not
No. Not nothing.
Not empty,
the space in an atom speaks possibility.