Archive
05/12/09 - (1)
The Essences
Although memory can cast its backward shadow Through the galaxy of my complex life, All it can illuminate are a few isolated planets —
Way stations my psyche has briefly visited, During marked stages of its evolutionary maturation, From birth, past youth, adulthood, toward ultimate darkness.
And even if imagination, situated at the locus of speculation, Can project, with imprecise focus, what's up ahead, Its prophecies are meaningless, in fate's grand scheme,
Since calculating the future, with such fool's tools, Only leads the blind to lead blind sheep Deeper and deeper into galactic pastures not yet born.
Ultimately, all I can know are the essences of myself: Touch, taste, hearing, sight, and smell; Who, what, when, how, why, and where;
Then/was, now/is, and later/will be; never and forever; Breathing, eating, drinking, evacuating, and sleeping; Being no more.
05/12/09 - (1)
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