Bag vs Sky

Looking up in the direction of the sky, I can reasonably expect to see sky. Sometimes, though, there is a large bag where the sky used to be. The bag, large enough to fill the entire sky, is exactly the size of my wide-open arms. It fits. Not completely in my arms, but it fits well enough so that even as it overflows, it still fits within my wide-open arms. I would tell you the contents of the bag, but then you run the risk of being tasked with holding some of those named contents yourself. It is better to leave all of the contents inside the bag, if and for as long as possible. There were other times, earlier times when there used to be more people around to help carry the bag, either in sharing the actual task of carrying the bag, or by taking turns carrying the bag, or even by removing some of the contents of the bag so as to make the load lighter for the one who was likely to continue holding the bag for the foreseeable future. Holding the bag for extended periods of time leads to a strengthening of the muscles in the arms. Because of the multiplicity of skies, there are many people who can be found at any given time holding sky-sized bags; you can identify them by the strong and bulging muscles of their arms. A careful observer might even recognise one who in the past had held a sky-sized bag, as evidenced by the flappiness of skin on an arm that formerly bulged with musculature, but does so no longer. 

When the sky fills up with too many bags, the bagbusters are called in. They arrive quickly and promptly get to work, breaking up the bags in the sky. An alarm sounds, and for a while almost everyone hides in their homes so as to avoid the raining belts and cheesecakes and coffee and nipples and nerves and ants and cats and dogs and bears oh my, but when the jumble rain clears up, the sky is visible, and you’ll notice some people here and there are shaking their arms out, free at last.

_{Footnote: this poem was created using The Emptiness constraint as the starting point.}